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•MTRAND  SMITH. 

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•«A«H,  CALIF 


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TELL  YOUR  WIFE 


/L 


/n^, 


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BOSTON 
LEE   AND   SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   T.  DILLINGHAM 
1886 


COPYRIGHT,  1885, 
BY  LEE   AND   SHEPARD. 


All  rig/its  reserved. 
TELL  YOUR  WIFE. 


TELL   YOUR    WIFE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

"  Youth,  Hope,  and  Trust, 
These  form  a  trinity  that  makes  a  heaven  upon  earth." 

HARRY !  it  was  splendid ! " 
That  was  Hester. 

"  Old  fellow,  you  did  well ! " 

"You'll  eat  your  dinner  with  an  appetite, 
after  that  triumph  ! " 

"  The  dean  spoke  very  favorably.  He's  rather 
sparing  of  his  compliments,  you  know." 

So  said  one  and  another  of  a  class  of  thirty,  as 
after  the  valedictory,  which  had  cost  me  much 
pains  and  close  study,  I  came  down  from  my 
pedestal,  and  mingled  with  the  crowd. 

Even  the  wheezy  professor,  Hester's  father, 
with  his  chin  on  his  chest,  condescended  to 
smile  his  approbation,  and  even  to  essay  a  com- 
plimentary sentence. 

But  what  cared  I  for  them  all,  with  Hester's 
slim  white  hand  in  mine  ?  Hester's  brown  eyes 

2061875 


6  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

worshipful,  Hester's  smile  making  my  heaven  ? 
Now  very  soon  I  could  claim  her  for  my  wife. 
I  had  loved  her  since  the  first  day  I  entered  the 
college,  and  she,  a  shy  girl  of  fourteen,  had 
looked  up  at  me  with  a  smile  in  her  soft  brown 
eyes.  She  was  then  fourteen :  now  she  was 
seventeen,  my  bonny  Hester. 

"So  you  liked  it,"  I  said,  with  natural  and 
perhaps  pardonable  exultation.  "  Well,  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  that  I  thought  it  pretty  good 
myself  —  before  I  reached  the  platform;  but, 
while  delivering  it,  it  seemed  flat,  stale,  un- 
profitable." 

"  I  never  would  have  dreamed  it.  You 
seemed  quite  lost  in  the  subject,"  she  made 
reply.  "  How  did  you  like  the  flowers  ? " 

"Charming  —  although  I  did  not  examine 
them  critically.  I  left  them  on  the  desk.  Jen- 
kins will  attend  to  them." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  don't  like  flowers,"  Hester 
said,  with  an  incipient  pout. 

"  Because  I  sent  them  away  ?  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  I  don't  like  carrying  a  bouquet, 
though  I  adore  flowers.  If  ever  I  have  a  church, 
I  mean  to  keep  the  altar  supplied,  in  season 
and  out. 


" '  There  grows  a  flower  on  every  bough : 
Its  gay  leaves  kiss  —  I'll  show  you  how.' " 


TELL   YOUR    WIFE.  / 

Hester  laughed. 

"You'll  please  wait  till  you  get  home,"  she 
said. 

"  Hester,  have  you  tied  your  throat  up  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Vaughan,  with  awful  dignity.  "  Mr. 
Clements,  you  quite  astonished  us.  The  pro- 
fessor says  it  was  the  best  valedictory  since  the 
time  of  Tindell.  But  dear  me !  Tindell  is  in 
deacon's  orders  yet.  He  married  too  young, 
Mr.  Clements.  It  was  very  wilful  of  him,  very 
wrong.  We  all  warned  him." 

Hester  gave  me  a  look  that  said,  "Take  care  ! 
beware ! "  and  so  spared  her  mother  my  opinion 
of  early  marriages. 

The  dear  girl  had  just  one  little  fault.  It 
had  sometimes  occurred  to  me  that  she  was  a 
trifle  too  prone  to  take  matters  into  her  own 
hands,  —  vulgarly  speaking,  of  "  bossing."  Her 
mother  ruled  the  household,  including  the  pro- 
fessor ;  that  was  evident  on  a  brief  acquaint- 
ance. 

And  yet  the  dear  girl  had  a  quick  insight 
into  things  that  sometimes  puzzled  her  elders. 
She  was  electric,  magnetic,  and  possessed  of 
the  ability  to  read  human  nature. 

She  read  me,  but  I  was  not  then  aware  of 
the  fact ;  she  read  and  yet  loved  me.  Doubt- 
less she  wished  in  a  degree  to  shape  my  future. 
This,  I  apprehend,  was  one  of  her  most  cher- 


8  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

ished  ideas.  She  saw  my  enormous  love  of 
approbation ;  my  desire  to  make  all  men,  and 
women  too,  my  friends.  There  was  the  possi- 
bility of  a  downfall  from  just  this  fact,  —  that 
I  rated  my  gifts  beyond  their  warrant,  that  I 
looked  down  upon  the  commonplace,  and  my 
vanity  of  race  was  simply  stupendous.  Sleep- 
ing in  my  heart  of  hearts  was  a  pride,  that, 
some  day  awaking,  might  spring  upon  me,  and 
destroy  me  root  and  branch. 

I  had  noticed  her  ability  as  well  as  inclina- 
tion to  rule.  By  the  simple  arrangement  of 
putting  on  her  embryonic  attempts  an  arbitrary 
interpretation  of  my  own,  I  had  come  to  the 
conclusion,  that  in  all  respects,  if  she  ever  be- 
came my  wife,  she  must  defer  to  my  judg- 
ment, not  I  to  hers.  This  decision  I  never 
had  the  courage  to  put  in  words.  She  was  so 
lovely,  so  lovable,  —  grace  was  attendant  in  all 
she  did  and  said,  —  her  utterances  were  so  pure 
and  noble,  her  interest  in  all  I  did  so  sincere, 
that  I  kept  my  resolution  to  myself,  partly,  per- 
haps, for  fear  that  I  should  not  be  able  to  carry 
it  out. 

"  You  will  come  home  with  us  to  dinner,  the 
professor  says.  Mr.  Launce  has  done  us  the 
honor  to  accept  our  invitation,"  said  Mrs. 
Vaughan,  in  her  deep  voice,  that  seemed  to  is- 
sue from  the  triple  folds  of  her  chin. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  9 

Launce  was  a  slim,  dignified  dandy,  the  heir 
to  hundreds  of  thousands. 

Hester,  who  had  taken  my  arm,  gave  it  a  lit- 
tle pinch.  I  knew  exactly  what  it  meant,  — 
"What  do  I  care  for  him,  or  his  riches  ?  " 

He  was  in  the  parlor  when  we  reached  the 
professor's  house,  standing  by  the  mantel, 
pinching  his  chin.  He  had  that  distinctive 
habit  by  which  I  should  have  known  him  in  any 
part  of  the  world.  Slim,  tolerably  well  shaped, 
with  eyes  that  would  easily  have  met  but  for 
the  insignificant  line  that  formed  the  bridge  of 
his  nose,  a  mouth  of  large  proportions,  a  flat 
forehead,  mutton-chop  whiskers  and  a  mus- 
tache, —  two  features  which  saved  his  face 
from  utter  vacuity,  —  he  was  a  man  incapable 
of  attracting  attention,  save  for  his  prospective 
millions.  As  it  was,  all  the  mothers  were  fish- 
ing for  him,  Mrs.  Vaughan  among  them  ;  and  all 
the  daughters  —  save  Hester  —  dying  to  receive 
a  smile  from  him. 

Curiously  enough,  though  Hester  treated  him 
almost  with  rudeness,  he  was  more  than  willing 
to  lay  all  his  possessions  at  her  feet. 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Launce !  "  said  Hester  indiffer- 
ently. "  Excuse  me  for  a  few  moments  —  I'll 
be  back  soon,  Hal,"  turning  markedly  to  me ; 
and  away  she  tripped.  I  sauntered  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  room.  Hope  and  love  made 
me  almost  insolent. 


IO  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

Hester  came  down  in  a  few  moments  radiant. 
Never  had  she  seemed  so  beautiful.  A  gown 
of  blue,  laces  like  sea-foam  at  throat  and  wrist, 
her  eyes  shining,  her  lovely  head  with  its  wavy, 
rippling  locks  changing  from  bronze  to  gold,  her 
merry  smile,  —  was  I  some  day  to  be  the  pos- 
sessor of  all  those  charms  ?  The  very  thought 
made  me  shiver  with  a  thrill  of  ecstasy.  Am  I 
talking  nonsense  ?  Every  honest  man  in  love 
will  answer,  No ! 

The  memory  of  that  day  is  burned  in  upon 
my  brain.  For  me  it  was  supreme  from  the 
moment  I  had  achieved  the  first  victory  of  my 
young  manhood  till  I  parted  with  Hester. 

The  professor  always  gave  good  dinners,  but 
it  was  Hester's  sparkling  face  I  feasted  on  that 
day.  She  played  the  violin  with  rare  precision 
and  beauty  if  not  with  genius.  Mr.  Launce 
listened,  simpered,  and  pinched  his  chin.  He 
seemed  to  lack  courage  to  speak  to  her  while  I 
was  by.  I  fancied  I  held  him  dumb  by  a  sort 
of  mesmeric  power. 

That  evening  I  talked  with  the  professor. 
Before  I  knew  it,  almost,  I  had  asked  him  for 
his  daughter.  He  referred  me  to  Mrs.  Vaughan, 
who  gave  a  decided  refusal.  I  was  too  young  ; 
my  income  only  enabled  me  to  take  care  of  my- 
self. The  professor  contemplated  a  visit  to 
Europe.  He  had  relatives  there.  It  was  an 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  II 

opportunity  for  her  darling  that  she  dared  not 
forego. 

I  listened  as  she  droned  on,  my  heart  all 
one  dumb  ache.  Never  having  counted  upon  a 
refusal,  I  was  like  a  child  just  beginning  to  un- 
derstand that  he  cannot  have  his  own  way.  I 
protested.  As  well  might  one  try  to  cut  ada- 
mant with  a  pen-knife.  Mrs.  Vaughan's  mind 
was  made  up,  and  she  was  granite-firm.  Hes- 
ter knew  it  when  she  saw  me.  In  what  way,  I 
cannot  conjecture,  but  she  had  dismissed  Mr. 
Launce.  I  held  her  two  hands,  and  she  saw 
all  the  misery  of  my  soul. 

"  I  dreaded  it  would  come  to  this  ;  but  don't 
you  mind,  Harry.  I'll  be  true  as  steel." 

"But  —  to  be  gone  —  a  whole  year!"  If  life 
had  depended  upon  it,  I  could  not  keep  back 
the  tears.  I  am  afraid  they  overran  my  eyes. 

"  It  does  seem  a  long  time ;  but  courage," 
said  the  high  heart.  And  then  the  golden  plaits 
of  the  high  heart  laid  on  my  shoulder,  and  she 
was  sobbing.  It  was  not  three  minutes  by 
the  filigree  clock  on  the  mantel-piece,  however. 
When  she  looked  up,  the  soft  eyes  were  defiant. 

"She  knows  I  love  you — she  knows  she 
married  papa  when  he  was  a  poor  student.  She 
ought  not  to  be  my  mother — but  she  is,  and 
she  knows  we  all  obey  her  in  this  house.  I 
won't  run  away  with  you,  because  that  would 


12  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

be  foolish,  and  wouldn't  look  respectable.  Be- 
sides, you've  got  your  orders  to  think  of,  and 
there's  plenty  of  hard  work  before  you.  Come, 
now,  I'll  prophesy.  Before  the  year  is  out,  you 
will  have  your  own  church,  marry  some  foolish 
girl"- 

I  stopped  her  speech  with  a  kiss. 

We  sat  together  for  a  little  space,  then  I  left 
the  house,  more  miserable  than  I  had  ever  felt 
in  my  life,  little  thinking  that  I  should  not  see 
her  face  again  for  many  weary  months. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  13 


CHAPTER   II. 

"  Not  to  be  true  in  seeming,  is  sometimes  not  to  be  true  in  fact." 

HOW  the  year  passed,  I  cannot  tell.  Occa- 
sionally came  letters  from  friends  who  had 
met  my  darling ;  never  one  came  to  me  from 
her  —  that  was  forbidden.  Yet  night  and  morn- 
ing her  sweet  words  comforted  me,  — 

"Don't  you  mind,  Harry.  I  will  be  true  as 
steel." 

I  believed  her.  She  would  come  home  to 
me  more  beautiful  than  ever,  she  would  come 
home  of  age,  ready  and  willing  to  take  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  life  in  her  own  hands,  hers  and 
mine  together. 

Then  came  news.  The  professor  had  decided 
to  remain  another  year.  I  was  furious;  for  I 
had  built  up  my  plans,  and  every  thing  was 
contingent  upon  her  coming. 

There  were  those  who  would  have  consoled 
me,  and  I  was  sorely  tempted.  Men  said  that 
Miriam,  Hester's  cousin,  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful woman  in  the  city ;  and  Miriam  always  re- 


14  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

minded  me  of  Hester.  Shall  I  tell  of  Miriam's 
weakness,  and  my  thoughtless  folly  ?  The  girl 
knew  my  love-history  —  Hester  had  confided  in 
her;  and  yet  —  perhaps  she  thought,  hoped,  or 
longed,  that,  being  so  far  away,  Hester  might 
forget  me,  or  I  her.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  formed 
the  habit  of  going  to  her  for  sympathy.  She 
was  different  from  Hester  in  many  ways,  — 
more  yielding,  less  aggressive,  more  intellectual. 
She  lived  with  her  parents  in  an  unpretending 
house,  not  quite  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city, 
but  far  enough  out  to  have  a  wilderness-garden 
of  its  own ;  and  the  porch  with  its  old-fashioned 
lounging-chairs,  and  interlacing  branches  of 
rose-vines,  was  a  very  comfortable  place. 

The  effect  of  my  constant  visits  came  to 
be  evident  in  time.  Miriam  dressed  for  me, 
looked  for  me,  and  I  was  not  blind  to  the  fact. 
Here  was  my  selfishness  conspicuous.  I  could 
not  give  up  my  own  comfort,  and  the  comfort 
she  gave  me,  though  it  might  be  to  her  hurt. 
I  saw  the  changing  color,  the  quick  conscious- 
ness, the  brightening  of  the  face,  as  one  who 
will  not  see  though  the  fact  be  self-evident.  I 
am  afraid  I  enjoyed  the  knowledge,  guilty  as  it 
made  me  feel,  contemptible  as  it  was. 

One  day  when  she  was  at  the  piano,  singing, 
I  spoke  of  the  song  as  one  nobody  could  sing 
exactly  like  Hester.  She  burst  into  tears, 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  1 5 

and  left  the  room.  All  was  revealed  to  me 
then. 

For  a  week  I  kept  aloof  from  the  pretty 
home ;  for  a  week  I  was  torn  with  doubts  and 
fears.  The  girl  had  stirred  my  sympathies  to 
such  a  degree,  that,  had  I  been  assured  that 
Hester  had  faltered  once  in  her  determination, 
I  would  have  married  Miriam. 

When  I  met  her,  she  looked  pale,  and  her  eye 
wandered.  Her  manner  was  colder  and  prouder, 
as  if  she  had  schooled  herself  to  composure. 
She  would  not  have  pity.  I  saw  that,  and  made 
no  change  in  my  manner.  Her  mother  spoke 
of  her  fretfully ;  whether  she  half  surmised 
what  the  trouble  was,  I  could  not  tell.  To 
hints  I  was  impervious. 

"  I  wish  Miriam  could  have  gone  with  Hes- 
ter," she  said  one  day  impatiently.  "  I  think 
her  uncle  might  have  taken  her,  though  the 
outfit  would  have  cost  pa  a  year's  profit.  Still, 
it  might  have  paid,  Miriam  is  so  beautiful ! 
The  child  isn't  well  ;  something  frets  her ; 
whether  or  not  it  is  Hester's  letters,  —  though 
that  can't  be ;  for  I  must  say  they  are  perfect 
pictures,  and  well  worth  being  printed." 

"  She  is  enjoying  the  old  country,  then  ? "  I 
said. 

"  Enjoying  it !  you  ought  to  see  Miriam's 
letters.  Now  in  a  palace,  now  in  some  great 


1 6  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

cathedral ;  pictures,  statues,  fountains ;  lords, 
ladies,  balls,  theatres,  and  parties,  —  I  should 
think  the  child  would  die." 

"Yet  but  just  now  you  were  saying  that  you 
wished  Miriam  had  gone." 

"  Oh,  well ! "  she  colored,  and  cast  a  quick 
glance  at  me  that  seemed  both  angry  and  im- 
ploring. "  Miriam  is  not  such  an  enthusiast  as 
her  cousin — less  excitable,  and  more  even  in 
her  temperament,  as  you  must  sometimes  ob- 
serve. And  then  —  yes,  I  do  wish  she  had 
gone,  poor  child  !  " 

I  had  taken  up  a  book,  conscious  that  her 
words  conveyed  a  covert  reproach.  Was  it  that 
that  angered  me  ?  or  the  fact  that  I  had  never 
seen  one  of  those  charming  letters  written  by 
the  hand  of  my  dear,  absent  love  ?  An  unrea- 
soning jealousy  took  possession  of  me.  I  began 
to  rack  my  brain  for  some  method  by  which  I 
could  get  possession  of  them.  In  my  course  of 
self-instituted  study,  I  was  reading  "Theodo- 
rus ; "  and,  chameleon-like,  my  mind  took  the 
hue  of  his  reasoning.  In  his  moral  scheme, 
there  is  no  eternal  difference  between  good  and 
evil ;  and  so  insensibly  do  one's  ideas  take  color 
from  the  quality  of  thought  originated  in  a  pow- 
erful and  creative  brain,  that  for  the  time  I 
might  have  been  his  disciple  without  being 
aware  of  the  delusion.  Thus,  why  might  I  not 


TELL   YOUR    WIFE.  I/ 

practice  a  little  guile  for  the  better  consumma- 
tion of  my  object?  All  that  remained  to  do 
was  to  set  my  wits  to  work,  to  come  oftener  to 
the  cottage,  to  let  myself  bask  in  the  smiles  of 
Hester's  cousin,  and  the  work  was  done. 

I  protest  I  meant  no  harm,  either  in  my  cogita- 
tions or  my  intentions.  I  had  been  thrown  in 
the  society  of  women  all  my  life.  There  were 
no  boys  in  my  mother's  family.  My  twin  was 
a  girl,  from  whom  I  had  scarcely  ever  con- 
cealed a  thought,  even  in  my  college  days.  I 
had  been  trained  by  my  sisters.  Dolly,  she 
who  seemed  flesh  of  my  flesh,  and  for  whose 
sake  I  had  often  said  I  would  never  marry,  — 
until  I  met  Hester,  — pursued  the  same  studies 
that  I  did  up  to  my  last  year  at  college,  when 
illness  prevented  her  from  keeping  pace  with 
me.  I  was  always  more  at  home  with  women 
than  with  men,  always  happier  in  their  society. 

Did  the  remembrance  of  my  ministerial  call- 
ing come  to  the  rescue  ?  Yes,  more  times  than 
I  can  count.  Yet  I  was  still  a  man,  and  not 
yet  aware  of  my  own  weakness.  My  reason 
had  not  outgrown  its  callow  youth,  and  I  was 
not  then  in  the  habit  of  making  severe  requisi- 
tions of  my  conscience. 

The  plan  worked  admirably.  In  a  week  or 
two  Miriam  was  her  arcfy  beautiful  self,  and 
I  was  drifting  out  into  treacherous  waters. 


IS  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

The  color  came  back  to  her  cheek,  and  the  lustre 
to  her  eye.  I  thought  I  could  ignore  all  my  un- 
doing at  my  will  —  which  proves  what  an  igno- 
ramus he  is  who  plans  without  reason.  There 
are  moments  in  a  man's  career  that  he  never 
forgets.  All  through  life,  in  one  way  or 
another,  they  will  be  brought  back  to  him 
with  photographic  distinctness,  —  the  careless 
thought,  the  idle  action,  even  the  unconsidered 
words. 

"By  your  words  you  shall  be  justified,  and 
by  your  words  you  shall  be  condemned,  is  a 
tremendous  practical  law,"  says  an  old  writer. 
I  believe  it,  for  I  have  experienced  the  fact. 

At  last  I  had  gained  that  point  when  I 
decided  to  ask  Miriam  to  show  me  Hester's  let- 
ters. I  remember  the  afternoon  when  I  locked 
my  study-door,  and  set  out  for  the  cottage. 

It  was  a  pleasant  walk ;  and  all  the  outdoor 
world  was  a  picture,  high  in  light,  beautiful  in 
tints,  rich  in  shadows.  The  sun  shone  softly 
on  the  old-fashioned  houses  standing  inside 
of  quaint  gardens,  for  ours  was  a  city  not 
despoiled  of  nature's  handiwork.  Many  fine 
old  familie.s  there  were  who  made  their  homes 
after  the  fashion  of  those  their  ancestors  had 
left  more  than  a  century  before ;  and  every 
place  one  passed,  whether  protected  by  a  modern 
iron  fence,  or  only  a  well-kept  hedge  of  living 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  19 

green,  was  a  study  for  an  artist.  I  could  have 
fancied  myself  in  some  lovely  old  English  town, 
so  exactly  were  such  features  reproduced  as  walls 
covered  with  ivy ;  cool  arbors,  over-arched  with 
elm  and  maple  ;  curious  latticed  windows  ;  mas- 
sive porches  ;  leafy  coverts  that  led  into  laby- 
rinthine walks  ;  here  a  common,  bright  with 
grass,  and  clumps  of  bushes  and  well-grown 
trees  ;  there  a  bit  of  rustic  woods,  filled  with 
verdure  of  all  colors,  with  thousands  of  sprays 
of  ferns,  and  gray  moss  clinging  to  every  thing  ; 
again,  a  mass  of  crumbling  rocks,  all  their  fis- 
sures aglow  with  treasures  of  bramble-blossoms, 
and  wild-strawberry  leaves,  and  a  thousand  dyes 
impossible  to  describe. 

As  I  neared  the  little  cottage  where  Miriam 
lived,  my  heart  beat  faster.  I  knew  I  should 
find  her  waiting  for  me,  a  happy  smile  on  her 
lips ;  and  I  had  told  her  I  should  ask  a  favor  of 
her,  though  I  had  not  enlightened  her  as  to 
what  its  character  was  to  be. 

Did  you  ever  succeed  in  convincing  yourself 
that  you  were  not  meaning  any  harm,  when  in 
your  very  soul  you  knew  you  were  walking  on 
forbidden  ground  ?  If  not,  then  you  must  have 
been  born  a  saint. 

I  had  called  Miriam  sister  and  cousin,  but  my 
actions  challenged  the  hypocrisy. 


2O  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  The  dear  old  home,  with  orchards  near 
Of  apple,  plum,  and  downy  peach." 

MIRIAM  was  waiting  for  me,  just  as  I  had 
fancied.  A  spray  of  apple-blooms  at  her 
throat  made  her  seem  an  incarnation  of  the 
promised  summer.  The  glow  of  cheek  and 
throat  was  more  vivid  than  I  had  ever  noticed 
before  ;  and  as  in  dreamland  we  do  incredible 
things,  so  in  my  waking  dream  the  impression 
of  her  beauty  was  so  vivid,  that  I  held  her 
hand  until  she  herself  withdrew  it,  blushing 
and  confused. 

"  Will  you  sit  here  ? "  she  asked,  "  or  go  in- 
side ?  Is  it  too  cool  for  you  outdoors  ? " 

It  was  all  glare  and  sunshine  here,  albeit  the 
vines  did  their  best  to  soften  the  light.  Pre- 
ferring the  shadow  just  then,  I  went  inside  the 
low-ceiled,  comfortable  parlor.  I  shall  never 
forget  it  as  it  looked  on  my  entrance.  On  the 
right  and  left  of  the  fireplace  stood  immense 
vases,  brought  from  China  when  the  captain, 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  21 

Miriam's  father,  was  in  the  service.  All  the 
furniture  was  old-fashioned,  and  much  worn, 
but  in  good  repair.  The  uniform  polish  of  the 
floor  was  broken  by  dainty  rugs,  all  of  them 
bought  in  foreign  bazaars,  and  rich  with  the 
devices  of  Eastern  looms.  It  was  a  place  to 
rest  in,  and  in  which  Miriam's  beauty  shone 
with  tenfold  lustre. 

"See,"  said  Miriam,  when  we  were  comfort- 
ably seated,  "what  a  beautiful  gift  to-day's 
mail  brought  me."  She  held  up  a  costly  dia- 
mond ring  which  sparkled  on  the  third  finger 
of  her  left  hand. 

"People  will  say  you  are  engaged,"  I  said 
lightly.  "  It  should  be  a  rich  lover  would  give 
you  a  ring  like  that." 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?  Hester  sent  it,"  she  con- 
tinued, the  glow  fading  from  her  face.  "  And 
in  my  letter  is  one  for  you  ;  and,  if  .you  like, 
you  are  to  see  all  the  letters  she  has  written 
me,  so  she  says." 

The  visitation  had  fallen  suddenly.  I  had 
been  weeks  industriously  planning  how  I  should 
consummate  this  matter,  and  here  it  was  ready 
done  to  my  hand.  I  suppose  I  looked  my  as- 
tonishment, for  Miriam  grew  rosier  yet. 

"You  don't  seem  so  very  glad,"  she  said. 

"No  —  I  —  that  is,  if  you  will  pardon  me, 
may  I  have  my  letter  ? " 


22  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  "  she  said,  and  went  towards 
a  writing-desk  in  the  corner,  took  the  letter 
therefrom,  and  handed  it  to  me. 

"  Don't  ask  to  be  excused,"  she  said  ;  and  her 
voice  trembled  a  little.  "  Read  it  now,  if  you 
wish  to.  You  must  be  anxious  to  hear  from 
her."  ^ 

"  Since  this  is  the  first  letter  she  has  written 
me  in  fifteen  months,"  I  said,  "  I  will  take  my 
time  in  reading  it."  And  the  missive  seemed 
to  burn  me  where  I  had  thrust  it,  in  my  breast- 
pocket. I  cannot  tell  what  spirit  possessed 
me,  but  I  was  kinder  to  the  beautiful  girl  be- 
fore me  than  I  had  ever  been  in  my  life.  Per- 
haps it  was  because  of  a  consciousness  that  it 
was  the  last  time.  I  cannot  remember  that  I 
was  troubled  with  any  qualms  of  conscience; 
they  came  afterward.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
purposely  demoralized  myself,  —  I  think  not  ; 
but  I  had  gone  so  far  that  it  seemed  to  matter 
not  what  further  risks  I  ran. 

I  know  I  took  home  with  me  a  face  beautiful 
with  hope,  almost  transfigured,  in  fact,  and  in 
thinking  of  which,  my  heart  sank  within  me 
while  I  composed  myself  to  read  Hester's  let- 
ter. Miriam  >  had  brought  me  a  little  packet 
tied  with  ribbon  as  I  left,  and  I  am  afraid  I 
called  her  "dear"  when  I  thanked  her. 

In  the  privacy  of  my  study  I  opened  the  let- 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  2$ 

ters,  —  first  her  own  to  me,  in  which  I  read  her 
noble,  lofty  heart. 

"  I  have  come  to  the  age  of  a  maiden's  lib- 
erty, Harry,  and  I  shall  begin  a  correspondence. 
If  it  does  not  seem  graceful  in  me  to  take  the 
initiative  step,  lay  it  to  my  unchanging  love." 

My  cheeks  burned  as  I  read  her  innocent 
revelations.  How  nobly  true  she  had  been ! 
What  a  heart  was  mine  !  Was  I  worthy  of  such 
affection  ? 

"After  this,"  the  letter  went  on,  "write  me 
as  often  as  you  will.  Mamma  has  made  many 
plans  for  me,  but  to  no  purpose,  and  I  think 
she  has  about  given  it  up.  We  shall  be  here 
some  months  longer,  and  bring  home  some 
pretty  things  from  the  foreign  bazaars ;  for 
papa  has  been  prodigally  generous,  and  I  have 
spent  a  little  money  myself." 

I  sat  down  that  night,  and  wrote  twenty 
pages.  All  the  fervor  of  my  early  love  rushed 
over  my  heart,  and  in  that  fervor  I  wrote.  How 
glad  I  was  !  how  free,  how  happy,  I  felt ! 

Miriam's  image  faded  out.  I  applied  myself 
more  diligently  to  my  studies.  I  had  passed  a 
fair  examination,  and  would  soon  be  a  full- 
fledged  priest.  I  had  now  no  longer  an  excuse 
to  lead  me  to  the  house  of  Miriam.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  was  thoroughly  ashamed  of  myself  when 
once  I  was  in  a  situation  to  face  my  own  treach- 


24  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

ery.  I  became  magnanimous,  and  decided  that 
I  would  not  even  call  on  Miriam  again,  more  for 
her  sake  than  mine.  If  I  could  but  have  seen 
what  this  decision  was  to  cost  me  !  I  sent  back 
Hester's  letters  with  a  note  that  I  should  be 
absent  for  several  weeks  on  a  visit  to  my  sis- 
ters. My  face  grew  hot  while  I  was  writing  it. 
Oh,  yes,  I  was  very  penitent !  and  all  those  long 
weeks  Miriam  lay  in  her  bed  raving  with  fever, 
nigh  to  death's  door. 

Meantime  I  had  reached  Myrtle  Mount,  the 
old  homestead  from  under  whose  blessed  roof  I 
had  followed  father  and  mother  to  the  grave  out 
there  in  the  little  rustic  garden  of  the  dead  at 
the  west  of  the  village  church.  Dolly  was  not 
yet  quite  recovered  from  a  slight  illness ;  but  I 
heard  her  half  laughingly,  half  sobbingly,  call 
my  name  as  I  stepped  over  the  well-worn  por- 
tals. Another  moment,  and  she  was  in  my 
arms,  very  pale,  but  very  happy.  God  had  been 
good  to  me,  I  thought,  in  giving  me  so  many 
blessings.  This  dear  little  girl,  so  graceful  and 
lovely,  with  the  beauty  of  soul  irradiating  every 
feature,  had  always  been  one  with  me,  and  I  was 
her  idol.  How  she  had  watched  me,  followed 
me,  clung  to  me! 

"  We  told  her  she  was  killing  herself  trying 
to  keep  up  with  you  in  Greek,"  said  Anne, 
whose  great  black  eyes  beamed  on  me  from  un- 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  25 

der  her  first  pair  of  spectacles;  "and,  sure 
enough,  she  came  near  it." 

"  Never  mind !  I'll  make  it  up  yet,"  said 
Dolly,  an  arm  over  my  neck  ;  and,  as  she  spoke, 
she  lifted  the  hair  from  my  forehead,  and  kissed 
it  again  and  again. 

"  You  are  prettier  than  ever,"  I  said,  taking 
the  slight  figure  on  my  knee,  while  she  lay  in 
my  arms  like  a  little  child.  "  I  never  saw  your 
cheeks  so  red,  or  your  eyes  brighter." 

Anne's  eyes  met  mine,  —  she  had  laid  aside 
the  spectacles,  —  and  there  was  a  strange,  ear- 
nest, yearning  expression  in  her  glance.  Just 
then  I  remembered  that  our  mother  had  died  of 
consumption,  beautiful  to  the  last ;  and  a  great 
fear  fell  on  my  heart. 

I  forgot  it,  however,  an  hour  after,  when  to- 
gether we  stood  looking  at  the  grand  sunset, 
whose  splendid  Tyrian  dyes  rolled  down  the  hills, 
followed  by  sheets  of  gold,  and,  as  when  we 
were  children,  we  saw  islands  of  silver  in  oceans 
of  emerald,  bordered  by  broad-branching  palms 
a  hundred  feet  high.  The  clamor  of  the  wild- 
fowl in  the  air,  the  distant  music  of  cow-bells, 
the  sweet  fragrance  of  the  hay,  the  far-off  wind- 
ing roads,  and  a  glimpse  of  the  river  that 
threaded  its  serpentine  coils  through  miles  of 
verdure,  —  how  they  brought  back  the  heart  of 
the  boy,  till  he  forgot  that  the  cares  and  trials 
of  manhood  were  in  his  future  ! 


26  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  Hester  in  my  pocket,"- 
I  whispered,  my  arm .  round  Dolly's  slender 
waist. 

"  Is  she  coming  home  ? "  asked  Dolly. 

"  I  hope  so,  soon." 

"I  didn't  know  —  I  thought,  maybe  —  you 
were  tired  of  waiting,  you  know,"  she  added, 
looking  away. 

"  Oh,  no,  darling !  she  is  worth  waiting  for," 
was  my  reply.  "  I  will  let  you  see  her  letter, 
but  none  of  the  rest.  You  are  my  second  self, 
you  know." 

"I  was  till  she  came,"  was  the  answer;  "but 
never  mind,  I  have  you  a  little  while  yet.  Anne 
is  calling  me  ;  they  are  too  careful  of  me,  but  of 
course  we  must  go  in.  To-morrow  we'll  have  a 
romp  as  in  the  dear  old  times." 

What  change  was  there  in  my  sweet  little 
sister  ?  She  was  like,  yet  unlike,  the  merry 
child  she  had  always  seemed,  with  all  her  wis- 
dom. 

We  all  sat  round  the  open  fire  that  night,  the 
apples  toasting  on  the  hearth,  and  the  quaint 
old  mug  full  of  sweet  cider  on  the  stand  beside 
us. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  where  you  will  be  set- 
tled ?  "  asked  Anne,  who  sat  next  to  me,  knit- 
ting lace. 

"There   is   a  talk   of   my  going   to   old  St. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  2/ 

John's,"  I  answered.  "Of  course  I  am  too 
young  for  it,  but  they  seem  to  have  made  up 
their  minds.  The  salary  is  small,  the  parish 
large,  and  the  church  not  over-rich ;  but  I  pre- 
fer to  take  it  with  all  its  drawbacks.  I  might 
be  assistant  rector  of  Trinity,  with  possibly  a 
larger  salary ;  but  I  like  being  my  own  master 
too  well  for  that.  One  might  as  well  take  the 
responsibility  at  once." 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  are  right,"  said  Anne,  who 
had  been  gazing  thoughtfully  at  the  fire.  "And 
who  is  to  be  the  new  rector's  wife  ? " 

She  never  looked  towards  me,  but  plied  her 
bright  little  needles. 

"  We  heard  it  was  Miss  Miriam,  old  Captain 
Hope's  handsome  daughter,"  said  Dora. 

"  What !  heard  that !  away  out  here  ?  Who 
on  earth  told  you  such  nonsense  ? "  I  asked, 
feeling  the  blood  rush  to  my  face. 

"We  have  friends,  you  know,  in  the  city," 
said  Belle,  who  was  herself  engaged  to  a  lawyer, 
a  man  whom  I  thought  well  off,  but  seldom  met. 

"Templeton  told  you." 

Belle  shook  her  head. 

"  It  was  a  woman,  you  might  know,"  said 
Dolly  sharply. 

"Yes,  it  was  a  woman,"  said  Anne  ;  "and,  by 
what  she  said,  we  had  decided  that  you  were 
off  with  the  old  love,  and  on  with  the  new." 


28  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !  "  I  was  nettled,  but  laughed. 

"  Yes,  we  really  understood  that  you  were 
engaged,"  said  Dora. 

"  Don't  marry  any  of  them,"  said  Dolly  im- 
pulsively. "  / '//  keep  house  for  you." 

"  I  may  call  upon  you  sooner  than  you  think," 
I  said.  "  I  preach  my  trial  sermon  on  the  thir- 
tieth." 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  delightful  if  only  I  could  !  " 
said  Dolly,  her  beautiful  eyes  sparkling. 

"Yes,  I  believe  she  would  leave  us  all,"  spoke 
up  Anne,  "and  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  with 
you." 

"  So  I  would,  if  he  needed  me,"  was  the  reply. 
"If  only  we  two  could  go  off  as  missionaries, 
I'd  be  willing  to  die  for  the  cause.  Then,"  she 
added,  in  an  undertone,  "you  could  get  mar- 
ried." 

I  had  no  time  to  answer  this  with  a  little 
loving  rebuke,  as  I  intended ;  for  Belle  asked 
me  to  take  up  the  apples,  offering  me  a  little 
pair  of  silver  tongs  used  for  that  purpose. 

"  Is  Miss  Miriam  so  very  beautiful  ? "  que- 
ried Anne,  her  keen,  questioning  eyes  looking 
straight  in  mine. 

I  knew  my  face  was  fever-red.  I  had  not 
dreamed  of  being  followed  to  this  place  by  the 
ghost  of  my  own  indiscretion. 

"  She  is  a  very  handsome  young  lady,"  I  said, 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  2Q 

"but  not  nearly  as  lovely,  in  my  eyes,  as  my 
promised  wife,  Hester  Vaughan." 

"  How  the  gossips  do  talk  !  "  said  Belle  angri- 
ly. "  Here  we  have  been  suffering  keenly  on 
account  of  the  scandal,  as  we  thought  it.  Why, 
an  old  friend  of  mine  was  actually  told  that  Miss 
Miriam  Hope  wore  her  engagement-ring,  and 
that  the  wedding-day  was  fixed.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  we  might  have  received  at  least  a  hint 
of  the  proposed  change." 

"  Of  course  you  would,"  I  said,  knowing  not 
what  else  to  say.  Did  Miriam's  reproachful 
eyes  look  at  me  out  of  the  flame  ? 

"  Sister  Anne,  it  seems  to  me  you  ought  to 
tell  brother  Harry  who  was  our  informant," 
said  Dora. 

"Well,  to  be  sure,  the  news  came  from  a 
very  ordinary  source,"  said  Anne,  smiling ; 
"  though  the  woman  is  one  of  the  members  of 
St.  John.  Her  husband  is  a  tailor,  and  they 
have  a  whole  houseful  of  children.  Her  name 
is  Dickory  ;  and  the  male  Dickory  makes  clothes 
for  Colonel  Albright,  our  nearest  neighbor,  —  has 
for  years.  This  Mrs.  Dickory,  a  very  common 
woman,  always  brings  them  home ;  and  she  was 
our  informant.  I  expect  the  male  Dickory 
works  also  for  Captain  Hope,  and  that  is  how 
the  news  originated." 

"  Plague  take  the  gossips !  "  I  said ;  but  all  the 


3O  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

time  there  was  a  vigorous  knocking  at  the  door 
of  my  conscience,  and  I  would  have  given 
worlds  to  undo  the  work  of  the  past  few  months. 

On  the  following  day  came  the  news  of  Mi- 
riam's illness,  through  the  same  informant. 
Anne  met  Mrs.  Albright  at  the  town-depot  for 
gossip,  —  the  store.  They  had  put  up  prayers 
for  her  at  St.  John  :  there  was  very  little  hope 
of  her  life. 

What  my  feelings  were  on  receipt  of  this  in- 
telligence, I  leave  the  reader  to  infer.  All  the 
poetry  of  my  visit  to  the  home  of  my  fathers 
was  blotted  out.  I  felt  myself  her  executioner, 
and  it  was  a  bitter  thought  that  I  must  lack 
something  of  the  qualities  of  true  manhood  in 
my  own  eyes.  I  returned  to  the  city  sooner 
than  I  should,  dreading  to  hear  the  worst. 

My  fears  were  not  realized.  She  was  past 
the  danger,  and  recovering  slowly.  I  wrote  my 
little  sister  the  good  news,  together  with  the 
fact  that  I  had  accepted  the  office  of  rector  of 
St.  John ;  that  flie  people  had  promised  to 
build  me  a  parsonage ;  and  that,  if  Hester  staid 
abroad  another  year,  she  should  keep  house  for 
me  till  my  bride  came,  and  after  that  make  her 
home  with  us. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  3! 


CHAPTER   IV. 

"  O  Sorrow  dark  as  death  ! 

.  .  .  that  I  had  been 
Thy  veiled  prophet." 

THE  first  face  I  glanced  at  in  my  first  ser- 
vice as  rector  of  St.  John  was  Miriam's. 

Very  pale  she  was,  calm,  cold,  disdainful,  and 
beautiful  as  a  saint.  It  was  some  weeks  before 
chance  threw  us  together  again.  I  held  out 
my  hand.  For  a  moment  her  lip  trembled,  and 
her  eye  flashed.  She  seemed  at  first  not  will- 
ing to  shake  hands,  but  thought  better  of  it. 

"  You  are  my  pastor,"  she  said ;  and  the  tone 
was  an  accusing  one. 

"  And  soon  to  hold  a  nearer  relation,"  I  said, 
quietly  and  firmly. 

The  blood  surged  up  to  her  cheeks.  For  one 
moment  there  was  an  expression  in  her  face 
that  positively  frightened  me,  it  was  so  intense, 
so  evil.  It  was  gone  almost  as  quickly  as  it 
came. 

Her  mother  had  been  talking  with  a  neigh- 
bor in  the  next  pew.  Now  she  came  forward. 


32  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"  Come,  Miriam,"  she  said,  almost  rudely. 

"  Is  the  captain  well  ? "  I  asked,  determined 
to  be  friendly. 

"Thanks,  no,"  she  deigned  to  answer:  "he 
has  been  ill  ever  since  my  daughter  got  up.  He 
worried  so  over  Miriam,  I  don't  think  he  will 
ever  be  himself  again.  He's  very  fond  of  Mr. 
Lyon,  who  has  administered  spiritual  consola- 
tion while  you  were  away." 

Mr.  Lyon  was  the  rector  of  St.  James, — the 
most  influential  parish  and  church  in  the  dio- 
cese,—  but  the  captain  was  one  of  the  oldest 
members  of  St.  John.  For  a  moment  I  felt  the 
humiliation  she  counted  upon.  But  why  did 
they  not  all  give  up  their  pew  at  St.  John,  and 
go  to  St.  James  ?  I  should  have  been  better 
pleased,  looking  my  own  soul  in  the  face.  The 
sooner  I  forgot  the  past,  the  better,  if  I  could  j 
or  if  I  could  have  felt  sure  that  Miriam's  feelings 
were  altered  towards  me.  Penitent  enough.  I 
was,  but  that  would  not  undo  the  past.  I  felt 
sure,  in  the  light  of  that  experience,  that  I  loved 
only  Hester,  that  I  could  never  have  felt  other 
than  sentiments  of  admiration  towards  Miriam. 
The  question  was  settled  in  my  mind  forever. 

But  what  of  Miriam  ?  She  had  a  certain 
power  —  a  power  to  make  me  uncomfortable  — 
to  thrust  herself  upon  my  sermon-page,  some- 
times, to  my  indignation  ;  for  I  had  almost  to 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  33 

wrestle  with  the  inclination  to  look  at  her, 
study  her,  wonder  of  what  she  could  be  think- 
ing, of  how  she  regarded  me. 

The  old  captain  died  in  less  than  a  month, 
and  now  the  faces  of  the  two  women  deeply 
bordered  in  black  demanded  my  sympathy  more 
than  ever.  In  that  great  trouble  we  seemed  to 
be  brought  nearer  together,  to  forget  that  there 
had  been  unkind  thoughts,  harsh  judgment. 
Miriam  grew  more  like  her  old  self:  her  mother 
came  to  me  for  advice  in  her  business  affairs,  as 
well  as  for  pastoral  comfort.  The  captain  had 
not  made  much  money,  and  of  course  they  must 
depend  more  or  less  on  their  own  exertions. 
There  was  enough  to  keep  them  for  a  time : 
the  house  belonged  to  them. 

"  Miriam  might  keep  school,"  said  Mrs.  Hope, 
who  possessed  very  little  of  the  commodity  her 
name  implied  ;  "but  she  is  so  delicate  since  her 
sickness,  that  I  want  to  spare  her  if  I  can".  She 
writes  a  beautiful  hand :  if  there  was  any  way, 
she  might  make  a  little  money  by  her  pen  as  a 
copyist  or  an  amanuensis." 

I  promised  to  do  my  best.  Quite  sure  by  this 
time  of  Miriam's  forgiveness,  our  relations  as- 
sumed the  old  friendliness,  if  not  the  old  famil- 
iarity. I  went  oftener  to  the  cottage,  but  it  was 
to  consult  with  Mrs.  Hope.  When  with  Miriam, 
I  felt  like  an  intruder,  fearful  that  I  might,  out  of 


34  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

sheer  nervousness,  say  or  do  something  my  con- 
science might  not  approve.  I  was  cured  of  ex- 
perimenting. I  would  not  give  it  the  plainer 
name  of  flirting,  out  of  respect  to  my  calling. 
Miriam  seemed  to  me  to  be  changed,  more  de- 
vout, more  gentle.  Only  now  and  then,  if  I 
spoke  of  Hester,  that  strange  expression  that 
had  so  startled  me  once  before  would  come 
into  her  face,  and  trouble  me. 

Meantime  I  continued  to  receive  Hester's 
wonderful  letters.  The  dear  child  opened  all 
her  heart  to  me,  unfolded  her  treasures  of 
travel  so  vividly  that  it  enabled  me  to  see  with 
her  eyes,  and  hear  with  her  ears. 

At  last,  the  very  night  that  the  finishing- 
touch  was  put  upon  the  parsonage,  I  received 
the  letter  that  told  of  her  intention  to  start  on 
the  following  Tuesday.  She  must  then  be 
on  the  ocean.  I  could  hardly  rest,  eat,  or  sleep. 
I  sent  the  news  in  a  note  to  the  Hopes,  and 
then  schooled  myself  to  wait.  I  passed  the  pro- 
fessor's house  on  my  way  to  St.  John.  All  the 
windows  were  open.  Workmen  were  in  the 
grounds,  carpets  on  the  lawn  :  all  was  in  a  state 
of  bustle  and  activity  through  the  mansion  and 
the  grounds.  I  was  the  happiest  man  alive. 
My  love  was  coming  back,  as  true  to  me  as 
when  she  gave  her  last  adieu.  No  doubt,  she 
had  met  those  who  could  and  would  have  given 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  35 

her  station  and  riches.  How  could  she  help  but 
have  admirers  wherever  she  went  ? 

I  walked  on  air.  All  heaven  and  earth  seemed 
to  be  keeping  jubilee. 

A  black-robed  figure  met  me.  It  was  Miriam. 
A -gentle  pity  stole  into  my  heart  in  the  midst 
of  my  rejoicing. 

"  You  have  heard  good  news,"  she  said  ;  and 
I  thought  her  lip  quivered. 

"  Yes  :  they  are  almost  here,"  was  my  brief 
rejoinder. 

"  They  ?  —  you  mean  she  !  "  was  her  response  ; 
but  her  voice  was  strained  and  harsh. 

"  Surely  you  will  be  glad  to  see  her,"  I  said, 
surprise  nearly  taking  my  breath  away. 

"  No  —  I  hate  her  !  no  —  I  hate  every  thing 
that  is  happy  !  "  she  rejoined. 

"Then,  Miriam,  you  hate  me,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  she  said,  giving  way  to  sudden 
passion.  "  You  have  wrecked  my  life,  and  you 
know  it !  You  know  it  standing  in  that  sacred 
desk  ;  you  know  it  in  your  moments  of  solitude  ; 
you  will  have  the  knowledge  to  make  you  still 
happier  when  she  is  your  wife." 

"Miriam,"  I  said  gently,  offering  my  arm, 
"you  must  not  stand  here:  you  are  trembling, 
angry,  beside  yourself.  Let  me  take  you  home." 

"  No,"  she  replied,  gasping :  "  I  don't  need 
any  help.  I  am  going  home  by  myself.  I  am 


36  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

wretched.  I  may  have  said  too  much,  but  I  felt 
it  all." 

She  saw  perhaps  the  absolute  horror  in  my 
face. 

"  I  know  what  you  think  of  me,"  she  said  rap- 
idly, "  but  I  don't  care.  I  have  wanted  to  tell 
you  what  I  felt  ever  since  my  illness.  Now, 
perhaps,  my  brain  is  giving  way.  I  wish  you 
would  let  me  go."  She  put  her  hand  to  her 
head. 

"The  road  is  open,"  I  said,  stepping  aside. 
She  started  forward,  but  walked  so  unsteadily 
I  feared  that  she  would  fall.  As  for  me,  the 
whole  round  horizon  had  turned  dark.  Had  I 
indeed  wrecked  her  life?  That  was  a  grave 
charge  to  a  man  in  my  position.  And  Hester  ! 
What  would  she  say  did  ever  a  knowledge  of 
the  fact  come  to  her  hearing?  She  would  de- 
spise me,  and  yet  I  could  lay  my  finger  on  no 
intentional  evil  deed. 

This  interview  had  completely  demoralized 
me.  I  went  home,  and  threw  myself  on  the 
lounge  in  my  study,  her  wild  eyes  and  haggard 
face  a  haunting  memory.  Then  I  rose,  and 
went  to  my  desk.  An  unfinished  sermon  lay 
beside  an  open  book ;  the  lines,  "  Man  is  his 
own  worst  enemy"  the  last  I  had  penned,  star- 
ing me  in  the  face. 

I  committed  the  deed  of  a  madman.     I  wrote 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  37 

mine  enemy  a  letter,  —  a  letter  any  innocent 
man  might  write,  and  yet  be  judged  harshly  by 
prejudiced  minds  in  the  reading. 

All  the  next  day  passed.  Towards  night 
came  a  singular  note. 

"  Please  forget  what  I  said.  I  have  terrible  headaches 
since  my  illness,  and  they  nearly  drive  me  distracted. 
You  are  safe  with  me.  No  one  alive  shall  ever  know 
what  I  have  suffered,  or  have  cause  to  distrust  you. 

"  Respectfully, 

"  MIRIAM." 

I  read  it  again  and  again.  What  had  I  said 
in  my  letter?  Written  in  the  half -distracted 
mood  in  which  I  then  was,  I  could  not  recall  a 
sentence.  I  knew  I  had  not  turned  state's  evi- 
dence against  myself.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
had  written  frankly,  but  at  the  same  time  cau- 
tiously. How  could  I  dream  that  she  would 
ever  use  that  letter  as  a  weapon  against  me  ? 

For  a  day  or  two  I  was  uneasy  and  nervous, 
but  the  feeling  wore  away. 

Hester  should  never  know  of  this  one  cloud 
that  had  darkened  the  serenity  of  my  life.  Why 
should  she  ?  I  reasoned.  She  had,  no  doubt, 
leaned  on  other  men's  arms,  looked  into  other 
eyes,  perhaps  unconsciously  formed  liking  into 
love  by  their  magnetic  glances.  I  asked  for  no 
confessions,  —  neither  did  I,  in  my  heart,  be- 


38  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

lieve  she  had  done  these  things,  —  I  would 
make  none.  Miriam's  anger  had  worn  itself 
out, — a  merely  selfish  anger,  a  fierce  protest 
against  herself,  and  made  against  her  will,  so  I 
chose  to  think. 

That  night  Miriam  sat  in  her  pew  :  she  did 
not  often  come  on  week  nights.  I  had  been 
having  some  trouble  with  the  choir :  my  mind 
was  wandering,  and  her  face  made  me  more 
helpless  still.  She  sat  there  like  a  fate  —  the 
woman  in  black  —  perhaps  a  fixed  hate  in  her 
heart  for  life.  How  I  got  through  the  services, 
I  scarcely  knew.  I  went  home,  and  read  all 
Hester's  letters,  and,  in  recalling  her  lovely 
presence,  grew  calmer  and  happier.  Surely  all 
would  be  right,  when,  that  dear  face  near  to 
mine,  we  sat  together,  and  talked  of  the  past, 
and  looked  forward  to  the  future  ! 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  39 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  A  cottage  home,  a  lowly  place, 

Painted  by  vines  and  climbing  roses, 
Nestled  beyond  a  woodland  space." 

"  TAEAREST  Harry  !  " 

LJ  With  these  words  she  greeted  me,  com- 
ing forward  with  hands  outstretched,  with  eyes 
shining,  the  whole  face  transfigured  into  an 
almost  unearthly  beauty.  I  could  not  realize 
that  my  dear  love  sat  by  my  side  after  almost 
two  years  of  absence. 

The  professor  and  his  wife,  submitting  to  the 
inevitable,  greeted  me  pleasantly,  but  without 
demonstration  ;  while  Hester,  dear  child,  let  her 
heart  speak. 

"  It's  so  good  to  be  back ! "  she  said  at  our 
second  meeting.  "  I  am  more  in  love  with  my 
own  surroundings  than  ever.  And  I've  brought 
home  such  stacks  of  pretty  things !  And  you 
really  think  me  improved  ?  I'm  glad  of  that. 
Do  you  want  to  know  what  I  think  of  you  ?  To 
use  an  Americanism,  you  are  positively  splendid 


4O  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

with  those  lovely  whiskers.  My  dear  Hal,  you 
are  quite  too  handsome  for  a  clergyman  ;  though 
I  don't  doubt  you  look  like  a  saint  in  your  robes 
at  dear  old  St.  John's.  How  I  long  to  see  you 
in  them  !  To  think  you  should  have  such  an 
important  charge  as  the  old  mother  church ! 
And  the  rectory  —  is  that  completed  ? " 

"  Quite  finished, "  I  said.  "  I  hope  it  will 
please  you.  The  plans  I  superintended  myself, 
remembering  your  wishes ;  and  it  is  as  conven- 
ient as  pretty." 

"  Poor  mamma !  "  laughed  Hester.  "  She  had 
such  high  hopes  for  me !  She  counted  so  much 
on  this  European  tour !  But  I  would  be  a  poor 
minister's  wife  in  spite  of  the  honors  that  were 
within  my  reach ;  and  I  assure  you  there  were 
several,"  she  added  seriously.  "However,  one 
of  them,  a  Russian  count,  had  a  terribly  red  nose, 
and  was  almost  three  times  my  age.  His  castle 
was  a  horrible  old  barn  of  a  place,  and  he  had 
six  married  daughters.  And  then  there  was  a 
German  baron  with  a  square  chin ;  but  he  was 
so  dreadfully  cross-eyed,  that  I  never  could  look 
at  him  without  laughing.  And  —  O  Harry  ! 
there  was  one,  that  had  I  not  been  very  much 
in  love,  and  honorable  to  the  last  degree,  I  might 
have  been  tempted  to  flirt  with.  I  am  afraid  I 
did,  just  a  little." 

I  laughed  outright  at  her  comical  assumption 
of  penitence. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  4! 

"  You  are  forgiven,"  I  said ;  but  a  slight 
twinge  of  jealousy  followed  the  admission. 

"  He  wasn't  quite  as  handsome  as  you  are ; 
but  he  was  nice,  and  so  attentive  !  I  thought  I 
had  best  tell  you  that,  though  I  was  as  true  as 
steel  to  you.  I  did  perhaps  allow  him  to  think 
a  little  more  of  me  than  he  should,  and  I  was 
well  punished  for  it." 

"  Dear  heart,  how  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  By  my  own  self-contempt  when  I  realized 
what  I  had  done.  I  assure  you  I  prayed  heart- 
ily for  forgiveness,  but  prayer  and  penitence 
seldom  efface  results  of  that  kind." 

Here  was  my  opportunity  for  confession,  but 
my  proud  man's  will  rebelled.  The  conflict 
within  made  me  assume  a  sterner  demeanor 
than  was  usual  with  me,  even  when  offended. 
But  confess  to  a  woman  !  never ;  particularly 
the  woman  who  was  to  be  my  wife. 

"I  see  what  you  think,"  she  said,  "and  it 
overwhelms  me  with  confusion.  But  you  are 
my  rector,  and  I  thought  the  confession  due  to 
one  who  was  to  be  my  second  self.  Ought  we 
to  have  secrets  from  each  other  ? "  she  asked 
sweetly. 

"By  no  means,"  I  answered  eagerly.  "I 
would  have  all  your  love,  all  your  heart,  all  your 
life.  What  became  of  this  young  man  ? " 

"  Oh  !   Lord   Glenlynn  —  a   beautiful   name, 


42  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

you  observe.  Well,  he  didn't  die,  that  I  know 
of.  He  only  pulled  his  mustache  till  I  thought 
it  would  come  out,  and  with  a  few  bitter  words 
took  his  leave.  I  was  really  very  sorry  for  the 
whole  thing.  And  mamma !  Heavens  !  how  she 
did  storm  about  it !  She  has  never  forgiven 
me." 

Should  I  tell  her  of  that  little  episode  ?  It 
is  not  the  woman  only  who  is  lost  if  she  hesi- 
tates. 

I  was  on  the  point  of  speaking,  when  a  lovely 
child  came  dancing  into  the  room.  She  looked 
like  one  of  Correggio's  angels :  a  sweet  and 
sublime  beauty  played  over  her  expressive  face. 
Her  every  motion  was  grace  itself. 

"  Come  here,  Marguerite,"  said  Hester. 
"This  is  my  little  English  cousin,  Hal.  She 
took  a  great  fancy  to  us ;  and,  as  she  was  an 
orphan,  her  uncle  consepted  that  she  should 
come  to  America.  Mamma  wanted  some  one 
to  take  my  place,  you  know  —  by  and  by."  A 
blush  heightened  the  brilliant  complexion.  She 
kissed  Marguerite  as  she  led  her  to  me. 

"This  gentleman  is  going  to  be  your  cousin, 
also,"  she  said,  smiling.  "She  is  only  nine 
years  old,  Hal :  isn't  she  lovely  ? " 

I  took  the  little  white  hand  in  mine.  Her 
eyes  were  blue,  her  glorious  hair  fell  in  waves 
of  gold  below  her  belt.  In  a  brief  time  we  were 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  43 

acquainted.  She  had  displayed  all  her  little 
treasures,  —  her  chatelaine  watch,  a  turquoise 
ring,  and  a  locket  containing  her  mother's  hair. 

"My  sweet  mother  is  in  heaven,"  she  said; 
"  and  I  will  show  you  her  picture,  sometime,  when 
every  thing  is  unpacked.  Papa  was  a  curate; 
are  you  one  ? " 

"  I  am  a  clergyman,"  I  said. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  I  used  to  love  papa  so 
well  in  his  white  robes !  I  expect  he  looks  like 
that  in  heaven.  I  know  exactly  how  mamma 
looks,  because  I  see  her  very  often." 

I  turned  to  Hester,  who  lifted  her  eyebrows. 

"  It's  a  little  fancy  she  has,"  she  said  a  min- 
ute after,  in  an  aside.  "  It  seems  to  make  her 
happier,  so  we  don't  meddle  with  it." 

"  You  mean  you  dream  of  mamma,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  no  !  you  mistake  me  if  you  think  that," 
said  the  little  one,  with  a  wise  shake  of  the  head, 
and  a  wondrous  light  in  the  depths  of  her  blue 
eyes.  "  I  see  her  just  as  I  see  you.  She  comes 
in  the  room  ;  and  sometimes  she  sits  down,  and 
sometimes  she  stands ;  but  she  is  always  so 
happy !  I  used  to  think  she  was  really  dead, 
but  I  don't  any  more." 

"  What  does  this  mean  ? "  I  asked  of  Hester 
aside.  "The  child  is  not  quite  right  in  her 
mind." 

"  Best  not  notice  it,  dear :  we  don't.     In  fact, 


/[/}  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

we  knew  nothing  about  it  till  we  were  on  the 
ocean,  when  one  night  —  a  very  stormy  night  — 
I  heard  her  talking,  and,  on  asking  her  who  was 
there,  was  startled  by  the  answer,  — 

"  Only  mamma !  " 

I  knew  mother  was  in  the  next  stateroom,  and 
it  puzzled  me  till  she  spoke  again. 

"  I  was  terribly  afraid,"  she  said,  "  the  boat 
spills  over  so  ;  and  it  seemed  to  me  we  should  go 
down  :  so  I  prayed ;  and  God  sent  mamma,  who 
told  me  there  was  no  danger.  God  would  take 
us  safe  to  America." 

I  assure  you  I  felt  very  solemn  for  a  moment. 

"  Has  she  gone  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes !  she  often  comes  and  goes  that 
way,"  was  her  reply. 

"A  strange  child,"  I  said,  "but  exceedingly 
beautiful.  We  must  try  and  get  this  fantasy 
out  of  her  head." 

"Maybe  you  can,  though  I  doubt  it,"  said 
Hester.  "  But  I  am  anxious  to  see  the  rectory. 
Can  we  go  now  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  I  said :  so  Hester  sent  the  child 
to  her  mother,  and  we  were  soon  on  the  way. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  45 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  And  the  marriage  bells  they  merrily  rang, 

While  the  maiden  sang,  '  Heigh-ho ! 
My  harp  so  still  on  the  willow  I'll  hang : 

He  should  have  married  me  —  O. 
And  now  I  must  sorrow  alone,  alone, 
While  she  sits  and  sings  by  her  ain  hearthstone.' " 

MY  love  was  in  a  mood  to  be  pleased  with 
every  thing  she  saw.  Still,  the  rectory  left 
nothing  to  be  desired.  I  had  studied  her  con- 
venience, and  followed  wishes  that  I  had  treas- 
ured up  when  they  fell  like  chance  words  from 
her  lips. 

"Papa  bought  me  three  perfect  pictures," 
she  said,  when  we  stood  in  the  pretty  parlor. 
"  How  lovely  they  will  look  in  this  light !  That 
arch,  too,  is  exactly  what  I  wanted ;  and  some 
stamped  velvet  I  bought  in  Genoa  because  it  was 
awfully  cheap,  will  be  just  the  thing  for  a  por- 
tiere.  You  know  papa  insists  upon  furnishing, 
so  I  shall  give  him  carte  blanche.  I  think  he 
is  secretly  pleased  that  I  resisted  all  mamma's 
attempts  at  match-making.  In  his  dear  big 


46  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

heart  he  thinks  the  world  of  you,  I  know  he  does. 
Besides,  I  should  have  disappointed  him  if  I  had 
been  fickle." 

"  By  the  way,  we  are  not  far  from  there,"  she 
added,  as  we  left  the  rectory,  and  I  turned  the 
key :  "won't  you  go  with  me  to  Miriam's  ?  Poor 
cousin  Miriam  !  it  was  such  a  sorrow  to  lose  her 
father !  they  were  all  the  world  to  each  other." 

I  caught  my  breath. 

"  I  hope  you  were  very  kind  to  Miriam,"  she 
went  on,  looking  up  the  street.  "  Of  course 
you  were  with  them  in  all  their  trouble." 

"I  was  there  some  of  the  time,"  I  said  in 
measured  words.  "  But  —  are  you  really  anxious 
to  call  to-day  ? " 

"  Really  and  truly  I  am,"  she  said,  and  stepped 
firmly  on  towards  Miriam's  house.  "Why  — 
don't  you  want  to  go  ?  Am  I  taking  you  from 
any  work  ?  You  said  you  would  give  me  to-day 
and"  — 

"Of  course  I  am  yours  to  command,"  I  said, 
and  walked  on  beside  her.  I  had  not  seen  Mi- 
riam since  I  had  met  her  that  last  memorable 
time  on  the  street,  and  sent  her  the  letter. 
Her  mother  was  not  well,  I  learned ;  but  I  had 
not  yet  had  the  courage  to  call.  I  excused 
myself  by  thinking,  that,  if  my  services  were 
needed,  I  should  be  sent  for. 

Miriam  came  to  the  door,  pale  and  wan.    The 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  47 

meeting  between  the  cousins  was  very  touching. 
She  hardly  noticed  me,  and  I  was  glad  that  she 
felt  it  her  duty  to  be  formal.  Then-  Hester 
went  up-stairs  to  see  her  aunt,  whom  she  found 
worn  and  ill. 

"  How  strange  it  all  seems ! "  said  Hester, 
when  we  were  again  on  the  sidewalk.  "  Miriam 
and  auntie  are  both  so  changed !  And  don't 
you  see  them  often  ?  They  spoke  of  you  as  if 
you  had  been  a  stranger.  I  thought  I  laid  my 
commands  on  you  to  be  very  cordial,"  she  added 
playfully. 

"  I  tried  to  be,  I  assure  you,"  was  my  reply. 

"But  there's  a  sort  of  antipathy  between  you, 
or  rather  towards  you.  I  can  see  it  in  every 
thing,"  said  Hester.  "What  is  the  matter? 
Auntie  said  she  shouldn't  think  of  sending  for 
you  if  she  were  ever  so  ill ;  and  Miriam  said, 
sternly,  '  Hush,  mother ! '  and  there  the  matter 
dropped.  Are  they  angry  with  you  ? " 

"Not  that  I  am  aware  of,"  I  said.  It  was 
not  to  be  expected  now  that  I  should  tell  my 
little  story :  Miriam  and  her  mother  had  put 
that  out  of  the  question.  "  Since  the  captain's 
death,  Mrs.  Hope  has  been  very  cool,"  I  added, 
at  a  venture.  "We  can  make  that  all  right  in 
time." 

Hester  seemed  satisfied. 

"  Auntie  always  was  a  little  cranky,"  she  said, 


48  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"  and  Miriam  has  often  had  to  apologize  for  her. 
Uncle  Hope,  it  seems,  left  them  almost  poor ; 
but  I  am  certain  father  will  do  all  he  can  for 
them.  Now  tell  me  about  your  sisters :  are 
they  all  well  ? " 

I  told  her  of  my  visit  home,  and  how  Dolly 
wanted  to  keep  house  for  me. 

"  And  so  sHe  may :  let  her  come,  the  dear  lit- 
tle thing !  How  I  should  love  her !  It  would 
do  me  good  to  see  her  sweet  face  about  the 
house.  And  you  know  we  can  afford  it :  I  have 
a  little  purse  of  my  own." 

"  We  will  see  what  Dolly  says,"  was  my  an- 
swer, blessing  her  in  my  thought. 

"Dolly  must  say  yes,"  said  Hester  emphat- 
ically :  and  how  precious  she  seemed  to  me, 
thus  taking  the  initiative  in  a  matter  that  was 
very  near  my  heart !  for  I  felt  that  Dolly  needed 
the  influence  of  younger  and  merrier  life  than 
she  saw  at  the  old  homestead ;  needed  to  be 
won  from  her  scholarly  ambition  to  read  Hebrew 
and  Greek,  and  plod  through  the  dusty,  musty 
old  folios  in  my  father's  library.  Hitherto  she 
had  lived  only  in  the  realm  of  the  imagination  ; 
and  her  affection  had  centred  itself  upon  her 
twin  brother,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  outside 
friendship.  One  little  line  in  one  of  her  letters 
will  give  the  reader  stronger  evidence  of  this 
than  all  I  could  say. 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  49 

"Dearest,  if  there  were  no  Christ,  I  should 
worship  you." 

Love  was  an  innate  quality  of  her  being ;  and 
I  longed  to  have  her  meet  with  some  kindred 
nature,  upon  whom  she  could  pour  out  the  rich 
treasure  of  her  innocent  heart. 

"We  won't  be  selfish  in  our  new  life,"  said 
Hester,  looking  up  sweetly. 

"  It  is  not  in  you  to  be  selfish,  my  love,"  I 
said  fervently.  "  How  shall  I  tell  you  what  a 
treasure  you  are? " 

"  How  ?  —  why,  in  any  way  you  please :  it  is 
only  the  matter  of  when.  Wait  a  while  till  the 
metal  is  tried,  and  we  are  some  years  older. 
Then  you  shall  tell  me,"  she  said. 

Time  passed  on.  The  wedding  was  quietly 
celebrated  at  St.  John's.  We  were  married  by 
the  rector  of  St.  James,  the  reverend  Archibald 
Lyon.  Mrs.  Vaughan  shed  real  tears,  —  regret- 
ful ones,  no  doubt,  —  that  her  daughter  should 
have  thrown  herself  away  on  a  poor  minister ; 
but  we  were  happy.  Hester  looked  radiant, 
and  beautiful  as  an  angel  in  the  loveliest  wed- 
ding-dress that  ever  came  from  the  hands  of  a 
French  artist  in  bridal  trousseaus ;  and  Dolly, 
in  her  delicate  beauty,  suggested  an  attendant 
seraph.  My  sisters  were  all  there ;  and,  when 
I  faced  the  throng,  did  Hester  feel  my  nervous 
start,  the  trembling  of  my  arm,  as  my  eye  en- 


5<D  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

countered  the  pale,  set  face  of  her  cousin  Mi- 
riam ?  There  she  sat,  at  the  head  of  the  family 
pew,  all  in  white,  not  a  touch  of  color  visible 
except  in  the  wild,  glittering  eyes  that  dumbly 
reproached  me  with  their  unutterable  agony. 
What  right  had  she  thus  to  depress  and  haunt 
me  ?  Could  I  help  it  if  she  had  given  her  love 
unasked  ?  How  was  I  to  know  that  the  inev- 
itable tendency  of  many  women  was  to  worship 
their  minister  in  place  of  their  God  ?  to  set  him 
on  a  pinnacle  so  high,  that  the  least  of  his 
smiles  meant  more  than  the  most  earnest  pro- 
testations of  other  men  ?  Believe  me,  a  clergy- 
man who  respects  his  calling,  and  has  outgrown 
the  vanity  of  inexperience,  never  feels  flattered 
by  these  undue  assumptions  of  reverence 
towards  himself. 

If  I  had  but  told  Hester  all,  her  loving  heart 
would  not  have  chided  me,  though  she  might 
condemn  my  thoughtless  conduct.  But,  once 
confessed,  there  would  have  been  no  more  con- 
cealments, on  that  score  at  least. 

And  now  I  began  my  work  in  good  earnest. 
Work  it  was,  too,  —  visiting  the  sick;  consulta- 
tions with  my  vestry  ;  putting  my  church-study 
in  order,  for  I  had  brought  the  best  part  of  my 
father's  books  to  the  rectory ;  meeting  with  the 
scarcely  known  members  of  my  flock,  who  were 
as  yet  to  me  only  like  faces  seen  in  dreams ; 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  5  I 

getting  acquainted  with  the  members  of  the 
choir,  a  quartet  of  exceptionally  fine  voices ; 
meeting  the  unavoidable  cases  of  boredom,  im- 
becility, mendacity,  and  mendicancy,  which  in 
a  church  of  that  size  adhere  to  the  congrega- 
tion, and,  like  all  other  calls  upon  time  and 
patience,  must  be  answered. 

It  was  such  sweet  relief  to  go  into  my  own 
home,  and  find  Hester  occupied  with  womanly 
work,  but  never  too  busy  to  hurry  to  my  arms, 
and  nestle  for  a  glad  moment  in  my  bosom. 
Then  came  blessed  peace  and  rest,  such  as  I 
had  never  looked  for  in  my  wildest  imaginings. 

It  took  me  weeks,  nay,  months,  to  get  wonted 
to  the  new  atmosphere  of  this  beautiful  home. 
Hester's  parents  had  been  more  than  liberal 
in  fitting  up  each  room ;  giving  to  each  a  char- 
acter and  an  harmony  of  its  own,  so  that  there 
was  no  dreary  triviality  of  sameness,  but  real 
picturesque  treatment  of  furniture  and  belong- 
ings. Hester's  good  taste  was  responsible  for 
most  of  the  details,  and  for  the  beauty  and 
symmetry  of  the  order  of  arrangement.  The 
study  was  a  marvel  of  neatness  and  conven- 
ience. There  I  was  wont  to  write  my  sermons, 
with  Hester  sitting  at  her  own  table  opposite 
mine,  where  she  wrote  her  letters,  read  or  sewed, 
as  suited  her  fancy.  We  had  a  cook  whose  skill 
had  been  tested  in  the  professor's  kitchen,  and 


52  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

she  needed  no  higher  recommendation.  Having 
passed  with  credit  from  under  the  skilled  eye 
of  Hester's  mother,  the  daughter  could  safely 
leave  all  culinary  matters  to  her  judgment  and 
economy. 

My  own  man,  Jenkins,  who  had  graduated 
under  my  father's  eye,  attended  to  the  more  or- 
dinary household  duties,  took  care  of  my  horse, 
furnace,  and  stable,  so  that  to  a  certain  extent 
we  were  quite  care-free.  Jenkins  was  tall,  lean, 
and  supple,  Irish  to  the  backbone,  and  in  the 
matter  of  ears  prodigious.  These  features 
stood  guard  over  an  enormous  pair  of  bushy  red 
whiskers,  and  full  two  inches  from  his  rather 
flat  temples.  He  was  devoted  to  my  interests, 
and  seemed  more  like  a  friend  than  a  servant. 

It  was  an  almost  ideal  state  of  existence,  save 
those  intervals  where  death,  and  all  its  attend- 
ant sorrows,  taxed  both  heart  and  brain.  Not 
a  day  passed  but  little  Marguerite  came  in 
from  school,  and  she  often  sat  down  to  our 
meals  with  us. 

"  Why  won't  Dolly  come  here  ? "  asked  Hes- 
ter one  day,  when  the  meat  went  from  table 
seemingly  as  intact  as  when  it  came  in.  "We 
want  somebody  to  help  us  eat,  if  nothing  else. 
And  she  is  so  pretty  and  sweet !  Besides,  when 
you  are  away,  she  would  be  such  company ! " 

"You  have  so  many  callers,  dear,"  I  said. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  53 

"  Not  so  very.  Miriam  came  to-day ;  but  I 
couldn't  prevail  upon  her  to  stay,  though  she 
wanted  to  look  the  house  all  over.  I  told  her 
you  would  be  so  glad,  —  but  no.  She  must 
gather  up  her  things,  and  be  off.  She  isn't  a 
bit  cousinly.  Her  trouble  seems  to  have  al- 
tered her.  But  little  Dolly  might  be  so  happy 
here  !  Who  was  the  lady  that  left  your  study 
this  morning  with  a  roll  of  music  in  her  hand? 
I  happened  to  be  out  picking  roses  in  the 
garden  when  she  passed." 

"  It  must  have  been  the  new  organist,  a  Mrs. 
Stanley.  Tom  Tracy,  our  tenor,  has  been  mak- 
ing application  for  her  for  some  months.  She 
seems  a  very  lady-like  person,  and  has,  of  course, 
a  history.  Her  husband  drinks." 

"  I  should  think  he  would,"  said  Hester 
quietly. 

I  looked  at  my  wife  in  astonishment. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say.  I  don't  like  her  face  : 
I  don't  think  her  a  woman  who  would  try  to 
make  her  husband  happy.  I  should  distrust 
her." 

"  My  dear ! "  I  said,  wondering  if  the  woman's 
rather  exceptional  beauty  had  roused  a  latent 
jealousy.  I  could  really  think  of  no  other 
reason. 

"  Oh,  well !  "  and  she  laughed  lightly  :  "  time 


54  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

will  tell.  If  she  had  applied  to  me  instead  of 
the  rector,  I  should  have  dismissed  her  at 
once." 

"  Not,  perhaps,  if  you  had  heard  her  play,"  I 
made  answer.  "  She  handles  the  organ  with 
the  skill  and  taste  of  a  master." 

"That  would  have  made  no  difference,"  said 
Hester,  with  a  pertinacity  that  surprised  me. 
"I  judge  her  by  her  face.  What  kind  of  a  man 
is  your  tenor  ? " 

"  One  of  my  best  friends,  handsome,  gentle- 
manly, and  reliable.  Do  you  remember  the 
Mrs.  and  Miss  Tracy  I  introduced  you  to  last 
Sunday  ? " 

"  Ah !  do  I  not  ?  There  was  a  grief  in  that 
sweet  countenance,  —  I  speak  of  the  elder 
woman,  —  that  went  to  my  heart.  The  daugh- 
ter is  charming.  Oh,  yes  !  I  remember  them." 

"They  are  Tom  Tracy's  wife  and  daughter." 

"  Charming  people  !  I  must  know  them  bet- 
ter," said  Hester.  "  So,"  she  added  musingly, 
"  Mr.  Tracy  has  long  wanted  this  new  organist. 
Well,  I  hope  you  will  all  enjoy  her  music :  I  am 
sure  I  shall  not." 

"  You  grieve  me,  Hester,"  I  said. 

"  I  see  I  do.  You  think  I  am  suspicious  or 
fanciful.  Never  mind :  I've  nothing  more  to 
say  about  it.  And,  as  to  my  impressions,  am  I 
never  to  speak  to  you  about  them  ? " 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  55 

"  By  all  means  !  —  tell  me  every  thing,"  I  said 
eagerly.  "  I  may  be  guarded  by  them  more 
than  you  think." 

"  Yes  :  I  think  perhaps  I  had  better,"  said 
Hester.  "  Papa  always  trusted  to  my  judg- 
ment. It  was  his  habit  to  ask  me  what  I  thought 
about  people  who  came  to  him  for  advice." 

"  My  darling  !  it  shall  be  mine,"  I  said  as  we 
rose  from  table. 

"Sometimes  it  may  be  of  benefit,"  she  said 
gently  :  —  "  there  are  letters  !  I  know  the  post- 
man's ring." 

Jenkins  came  in  with  six  or  seven  letters  on 
a  beaten  silver  card-receiver,  a  souvenir  of  the 
Continent. 

I  opened  mine,  and  laid  them  aside,  one  after 
the  other,  till  I  came  to  one  from  Dolly.  That 
I  began  to  myself,  but  soon  read  aloud. 

"  Mr.  Templeton  has  been  so  kind  as  to  interest  him- 
self in  me.  He  is  going  to  give  me  a  place  as  copyist  in 
his  own  office.  Now  I  will  come  to  you  gladly  if  you  will 
have  me.  I  shall  be  busy  only  six  hours  a  day.  The 
rest  of  the  time  I  will  gladly  devote  to  Hester  and  you. 
Now,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  feel  really  independ- 
ent," etc. 

Hester  clapped  her  hands,  performing  sundry 
little  antics,  that  in  the  eyes  of  wise  people 
might  have  seemed  utterly  childish,  and  finished 


56  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

by  taking  hold  of  my  whiskers,  and  kissing  me 
on  the  forehead. 

"  Lovely  !  lovely  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is 
the  desire  of  my  heart,  and  I  will  gladly  give 
her  a  share  in  you.  But  who  is  Mr.  Templeton, 
pray  ? " 

I  explained  that  it  was  my  sister  Belle's  fianct. 

"  And  so  little  Miss  Independence  must  work 
for  a  living !  We'll  soon  wean  her  from  that 
notion.  She  is  a  lily,  and  ought  not  to  toil  or 
to  spin." 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  Love,  jealousy  is  cruel ! 

I  say  it  lying  here, 
I  that  have  loved  you  madly 
For  many  and  many  a  year." 

A    LETTER   THAT    WILL    EXPLAIN    ITSELF. 

MY  DEAR  LESLIE, —  I  don't  want  to 
tell  you,  but  I  must.  Another  anonymous 
letter  came  to  me  last  night.  I  read  it  —  how 
could  I  help  it  ?  and  then  I  took  it  up  with  the 
tongs,  and  held  it  over  the  sitting-room  fire  till 
it  writhed  and  scorched,  as  my  heart  did  while 
reading  it.  You  told  me  to  go  to  the  rector. 
Alas !  he  is  too  new,  and  too  young.  What 
would  he  think  of  me  ?  Yes,  I  burned  the  let- 
ter ;  but  its  contents  burned  themselves  first 
into  my  brain,  thus.  Imagine  the  words,  — 
coals  of  fire. 

"  /  have  warned  you  repeatedly  of  Mrs.  S.  [  the 
same  Mrs.  Stanley  I  have  spoken  of  before~\. 
You  will  find  that  T.  T.  [  that's  Tom  Tracy,  my 


58  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

husband]  has  at  last  got  her  a  situation  as  or- 
ganist in  St.  JoJin.  Did  I  not  warn  you  three 
months  ago  ?  None  so  blind  as  those  who  will 
not  see  !  However,  you  will  not  be  blind  very 
long.  A  True  Friend." 

Who  can  this  be,  this  "  true  friend,"  who 
would  have  me  distrust  my  husband  ?  O  Les- 
lie !  he  has  been  very  dear  to  me.  I  married  him 
when  I  was  only  fifteen  and  an  orphan ;  and  he 
has  been  to  me  father,  mother,  brother,  sister, 
husband.  I  cannot  think  wrong  of  him,  —  I 
will  not !  And  yet  it  is  a  fact  that  the  vestry 
have  just  hired  and  installed  this  Mrs.  Stanley 
to  be  the  organist  at  St.  John.  I  cannot  yet 
bring  myself  to  speak  of  it  to  Tom,  though  I 
have  tried  several  times.  I  am  so  sorry,  for 
I  know  these  terrible  suspicions  are  changing 
my  nature.  Marie  takes  notice. 

"  You  are  not  as  nappy  as  you  were,  dearest 
mamma,"  she  said  to  me  the  other  day.  "  Is 
it  because  of  Charley  ? "  Dear  heart !  I  love 
Charley  almost  as  much  as  I  do  her.  He  has 
grown  up  under  my  eyes,  as  it  were,  from  year 
to  year ;  and  his  love  of  Marie  is  almost  idola- 
try. Yet,  loving  him  as  I  do,  I  would  rather 
see  Marie  dead  before  my  eyes  than  dream  that 
she  could  ever  be  forced  to  suffer  such  torments 
as  wring  my  very  heart  with  anguish.  When  I 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  59 

see  the  two  together,  I  am  reminded  of  my  own 
engagement,  and  how  utterly  happy  we  both 
were,  Tom  and  I !  Has  it  come  to  this,  —  that  I 
suspect  him  who  has  been  my  darling  for  so 
many  years  ?  No,  no !  I  am  deceived  :  I  must  be. 
Some  enemy  wishes  to  plant  thorns  in  my  heart. 
Rather  would  I  die  than  believe  this  thing  — 
oh,  yes,  a  thousand  times  !  and  yet  —  why  does 
he  never  mention  this  woman  ?  If  he  would 
only  speak  her  name,  or  speak  of  her,  the  ice 
would  be  broken.  Then  I  could  say  my  say, 
if  it  killed  me.  But  he  will  not  confide  in  me. 
It  would  take  so  few  words  to  lift  this  weight 
from  my  bosom  —  so  few  ! 

Perhaps  I  could  give  you  a  pen-picture  of  her 
—  the  woman.  Moderately  tall,  more  than  fair, 
dark-gray  eyes,  auburn  hair,  features  perfect  in 
every  line,  a  bloom  on  her  cheek,  —  not  of  na- 
ture, I  think, — lips  red  and  tempting,  and  a 
curiously  caressing  manner  that  takes  with  cer- 
tain people,  —  an  assumption  of  childlikeness. 
They  say  —  oh !  why  do  I  allow  myself  to  use 
the  ordinary  formula  of  gossip-mongers  !  —  that 
he  has  been  seen  on  the  street  with  her,  that 
she  visits  at  his  office,  that  he  has  aided  her 
with  his  advice  —  with  money.  They  say  her 
husband  is  a  drunkard,  and  treats  her  vilely. 
Is  that  a  reason  why  she  should  covet  mine  ? 
He  gives  her  advice  gratis  —  many  lawyers  do 


6O  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

that;  he  lends  her  money — that  is  a  common 
thing  among  friends,  and  for  pity :  but  why 
dont  he  tell  me,  his  ivife?  I  would  pity  her 
too :  I  would  give  her  sympathy,  aid.  Why 
should  he  be  so  deadly  silent  about  it  ?  I  know 
he  is  naturally  secretive  in  business  matters, 
but  this  is  between  souls  :  it  imbitters  my  life. 
If  I  had  not  you,  true  friend,  to  come  to,  I 
should  die.  God  help  me  !  what  am  I  saying  ? 
Our  new  clergyman  is  much  appreciated. 
He  and  his  wife  are  a  lovely  couple — if  he  is 
not  spoiled :  can  he  be  spoiled  ?  I  doubt  all 
men.  His  wife's  name  is  Hester,  —  the  name 
of  my  dead  mother,  my  dead  sister.  That  en- 
deared her  to  me  at  once.  She  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  professor  of  Hebrew  at  the  college, 
and  I  believe  we  have  a  prize  in  her.  I  thought 
she  seemed  to  read  me  to  the  innermost  core 
of  my  heart.  Something  in  the  clasp  of  her 
hand  sent  a  thrill  through  me.  Young  as  she 
was,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  could  go  to  her  for 
sympathy,  —  yes,  quicker  than  I  would  dare  go 
to  my  own  dear  husband.  Oh !  I  picture  to 
myself  so  many  terrible  things !  Is  my  fancy 
diseased,  I  wonder  ?  I  see  myself  on  my  dying- 
bed,  and  Tom,  stern  and  unmoved,  standing 
over  me,  commanding  me  not  to  die,  and  yet 
unwilling  to  say  the  word  that  would  raise  me, 
though  I  lay  in  the  tomb,  as  did  Lazarus.  Is  it 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  6 1 

because  I  am  exacting,  jealous  ?  I  was  never 
jealous  before  in  all  my  life ;  and  Tom  has  so 
many,  many  lady  friends !  But  open  friend- 
ship, ever  so  ardent,  never  troubles  me:  it  is 
these  strange,  secret  things  that  others  see  and 
report,  and  that  I  am  forced  to  notice  in  spite 
of  myself. 

Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to  follow  him,  but 
I  dare  not.  Suppose  I  should  meet  them  to- 
gether :  why,  they  might  casually  have  fallen  into 
each  other's  society ;  it  might  be  the  most  inno- 
cent thing  in  the  world  :  but  what  should  I  do  ? 
How  do  I  know  but  sudden  madness  might  take 
possession  of  me,  and  I  disgrace  myself  and  him  ? 
God  help  me !  what  shall  I  do  ?  Every  Sunday 
my  heavy  heart  hangs  weights  upon  my  feet ; 
and  so  I  drag  myself  to  church,  either  to  tor- 
ment myself,  or  sit  in  silent  judgment  on  him. 
Can  I  do  this  much  longer  ?  No  :  he  must  have 
pity  on  me  some  time.  He  must  see  that  I  suf- 
fer, yet  never  asks  me  why.  He  must  notice 
my  pallor,  —  I  that  had  the  ruddy  color  of  a  child 
in  cheek  and  lip  less  than  a  year  ago.  Dear 
friend,  what  do  you  counsel  me  ?  I  have  no 
power  to  bring  his  mind  into  affinity  or  rapport 
with  my  own,  else  I  would  will  him,  even  in  his 
sleep,  to  answer  my  soul's  torment,  even  with 
doubtful  words.  Sometimes  I  think,  that,  as  I 
am  not  well,  my  mind  is  tinged  unnaturally  with 


62  TELL   YOUR  WIFE. 

the  morbid  condition  of  my  body ;  but  I  have 
been  worse  physically,  and  yet  had  no  sorrow 
like  this. 

Write  me  something  of  comfort,  for  my  heart 
lieth  like  lead  in  my  bosom  :  I  seem  to  be  dying 
for  one  word  ,of  comfort.  Presently  I  shall  be 
better  acquainted  with  our  good  rector's  wife, 
Hester.  I  know  she  will  help  me,  young  as  she 
is ;  but  then,  after  all,  sympathy  is  but  sym- 
pathy. I  want  the  truth.  Farewell. 

AMY  ADELINE  TRACY. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  63 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  Sometimes  the  marriage-bells  are  sweet, 

And  sometimes  harsh  and  bitter  : 
Where  two  discordant  natures  meet, 
They  seem  for  burial  fitter." 

DOLLY  had  been  with  us  now  for  some 
months,  and  I  was  delighted  to  see  a  decided 
improvement  in  her  health.  Familiarity  with 
abstruse  studies  and  the  best  literature  had 
fitted  her  in  a  peculiar  degree  for  the  work  she 
was  engaged  in  during  four  days  of  the  week. 
I  was  not  at  all  surprised  when  I  learned  that 
she  was  writing  tales  and  poems  for  one  or  two 
of  the  minor  magazines.  To  Hester  it  was  won- 
derful that  a  young  girl  reared  in  the  country 
should  develop  into  a  genius.  To  me,  who 
had  been  in  earlier  years  her  teacher  as  well  as 
twin  soul,  it  seemed  natural  that  there  should 
be  a  oneness  of  thought  and  sympathy  between 
us,  and  also  that  she  should  use  her  power  in 
striking  out  into  a  new  and  delightful  venture, 
which  was  to  bring  both  money  and  fame. 
Hester  and  Dolly  were  like  sisters  when  to- 


64  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

gather ;  for  then  Dolly's  clear,  rich  tones  rang 
out  in  sweet  old-fashioned  songs,  or  Hester 
played  her  beloved  violin,  or  I  read  to  them  from 
some  new  book,  or  perhaps,  after  some  little 
coaxing,  Dolly  gave  us  one  of  her  stories,  or 
quaint  little  poems,  before  publication. 

You  may  fancy  us  seated  about  the  great  cen- 
tre-table, whose  wrought  cover  was  the  work  of 
Hester's  cunning  fingers.  Just  under  the  gas- 
light sits  Dolly,  a  picture  fair  to  .see,  the  rose- 
color  of  maiden  modesty,  as  she  lisps  in  musical 
numbers,  or  reads  us  a  charming  prose-sketch. 

"  Now,  this,  I  think,  should  be  set  to  music," 
said  Hester,  after  Dolly  had  read  a  poem  en- 
titled, "  What  Was  It  to  Me  ? " 

She  ran  to  the  piano. 

I  knew  this  old  tune  would  fit  it,  she  said, 
laughing.  "  Listen  ! " 

If  you  knew  what  was  brewing,  O  lady  mine ! 

You  wouldn't  sit  there  so  calm  and  sweet, 
With  the  golden  missal  upon  your  knee, 

And  the  silken  hassock  under  your  feet. 
You'd  storm  and  rage ;  and  that  yellow  hair, 
It  wouldn't  be  safe,  perhaps,  to  tear. 
But  then,  what  is  it  to  me  ? 

If  you  only  knew,  O  lady  proud ! 

That  down  in  the  primrose-covered  bower, 
Your  Geraldine,  with  her  eyes  so  blue, 

And  her  scarlet  lips,  and  her  queenly  dower, 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  65 

Listens  to  one  who  has  never  a  sou, 
And  is  low  as  the  lowest  peasant  to  you ! 
But  then,  what  is  it  to  me  ? 

The  boy  is  handsome  and  bold  and  vain, 
With  a  pride  as  grand  as  my  lady's  own. 

He  painted  the  pretty  Geraldine 

As  a  royal  princess,  his  heart  her  throne ; 

And  his  love  grows  stronger,  his  hopes  more  wild, 

Till  now  he  is  seeking  to  win  the  child. 
//  may  be  something  to  me  ! 

My  lady  has  risen  in  wrath,  and  thrown 

Her  golden,  carven  missal  down ; 
She  will  hie  herself  to  the  rosy  bower, 

Her  soul  all  fire,  her  face  all  flame ; 
She  will  rage  like  a  Fury  at  him,  I  ween, 
And  threaten  the  Lady  Geraldine 
With  many  a  woe,  ah  me  ! 

And  so  he  lingers  in  vain,  in  vain, 

For  the  ancient  castle  is  empty  now. 
I  can  see  him  walking  the  oaks  between, 

With  no  one  to  listen  to  song  or  vow ; 
For  the  ladies  are  sailing  over  the  deep, 
And  I,  the  butler,  the  household  keep. 
//  was  fifty  pound  to  me. 

"  What  a  mercenary  wretch  ! "  said  Hester 
as  she  left  the  piano,  and  resumed  her  knitting. 
The  door-bell  rang. 

"  Good-by,  comfort,"  added  my  wife.     "  Some- 


66  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

body  for  you,  no  doubt.  Dolly,  we'll  go  into 
the  other  room." 

"Wait  a  while,"  I  said:  "it  may  be  some 
one  to  see  you." 

Jenkins  made  his  appearance. 

"  A  couple  to  be  married,  sir,"  he  announced 
with  due  solemnity.  "Will  you  have  them 
in?" 

"  Of  course  I'll  have  them  in." 

"  You  and  Dolly  must  remain  as  witnesses," 
I  said. 

"  On  one  condition,"  said  Hester,  —  "  that  I 
shall  have  the  fee." 

I  readily  promised  her  she  might.  I  could 
safely  do  that  without  detriment  to  my  ex- 
chequer. These  unheralded  marriages  are  sel- 
dom remunerative.  I  went  into  the  study  for 
my  robe,  and,  presently  coming  back,  found  my 
visitors  waiting.  The  groom  was  good-looking, 
young,  tall,  angular,  but  not  ungraceful.  The 
young  lady  was  petite  and  very  pretty  ;  and  her 
dress,  though  by  no  means  costly,  Hester  after- 
wards assured  me  was  a  marvel  of  good  taste. 

There  was  something  about  the  two  that 
roused  my  curiosity.  He  was  somewhat  rest- 
less, and  seemed  anxious  to  hurry  on  the  cere- 
mony :  she  looked  about  in  a  frightened  way, 
and  did  not  seem  at  her  ease  until  she  met  his 
kindly  glance  that  seemed  to  re-assure  her. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  O/ 

I  examined  the  certificate.  It  was  correct 
as  far  as  I  could  judge,  and  I  had  proceeded 
half  through  the  marriage  service  when  the  bell 
rang  furiously. 

"  A  mad  woman,  sir,"  said  Jenkins,  as  a  tall 
woman  passed  by  him,  throwing  aside  his  out- 
stretched arm,  and  rushing  into  the  room. 

Mad  she  certainly  seemed,  with  eyes  aflame, 
burning  cheeks,  and  garments  evidently  thrown 
on  in  great  haste. 

"  Sir,  I  forbid  this  marriage !  I  forbid  it ! 
Don't  you  say  another  word ! "  she  gasped,  as 
she  placed  herself  between  me  and  the  two 
lovers. 

"  Mother !  for  God's  sake,  let  us  alone  ! "  said 
the  man  in  a  husky  voice.  "  Haven't  you  tor- 
mented us  enough  ? " 

"  I  say  you  shall  never  marry  her,  never !  Sir, 
he  is  not  of  age ; "  and  she  turned  to  me,  glaring. 

"But  his  certificate  says  of  lawful  age,"  I 
ventured. 

"  I  am :  I  swear  it,"  said  the  young  man, 
much  excited.  "  My  mother  hates  Ida :  she 
has  always  hated  her." 

"^She  shall  never  be  your  wife  with  my  con- 
sent ;  and,  if  you  marry  her,  I  will  curse  you ! " 
was  the  savage-  retort. 

"  O  Sam !  I  couldn't  bear  that,"  said  the 
young  girl,  now  speaking  for  the  first  time,  her 


68  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

eyes  full  of  tears.  "  I  would  be  a  good  wife  to 
you,  Sam,  indeed  I  would ;  but  if  I  knew  she 
cursed  me, — your  mother!  —  I'd  never  hold 
up  my  head  again." 

"She's  got  that  much  sense,"  muttered  the 
woman. 

"  Mother,  do  you  want  to  see  me  ruined  for 
life,  just  to  gratify  your  resentment?"  said  the 
young  fellow  pleadingly.  "I  promise  you  I'll 
be  just  as  good  a  son,  ay,  and  better,  with  Ida 
for  my  wife.  You  know  we  were  children  to- 
gether, and  I  love  her." 

"You  shall  never  marry  that  girl!"  said  the 
woman,  setting  her  lips  together. 

"  Mother !  hear  me ;  "  and  the  man,  white 
as  a  ghost,  stretched  forth  pleading  hands. 
"  Mother,  let  me  reason  with  you.  You  loved 
my  father  as  I  love  Ida :  would  you  have  given 
him  up  at  any  one's  bidding?  I  cannot  give 
Ida  up :  I  need  not  give  you  up  because  she 
becomes  my  wife.  You  will  gain  a  daughter, 
not  lose  a  son.  O  mother !  be  kind,  be  good ! 
I  have  always  been  dutiful  to  you  in  reason  : 
don't  wreck  my  life!  say  that  I  may  marry 
Ida  —  only  say  yes,  mother ! " 

"  I  would  rather  follow  you  to  your  grave," 
said  the  relentless  woman. 

"  Then,  you  shall,"  he  said,  his  face  taking  on 
a  stony  calm  as  he  put  his  hand  in  his  breast- 
pocket. 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  69 

"There  will  be  murder  done,"  said  Hester,  in 
a  low  voice.  I  put  my  wife  and  sister  behind 
the  portiere.  When  I  came  back,  the  man  stood 
in  a  defiant  attitude,  a  small,  gleaming  revolver 
in  his  right  hand.  The  girl,  his  bride  to  be, 
with  moans  indescribable,  embraced  his  knees : 
his  mother  stood  stern,  still,  but  trembling  like 
a  leaf. 

"  Now,  mother,  if  you  don't  let  this  marriage 
service  go  on,  I'll  shoot  myself  through  the 
head,  and  you  shall  follow  me  to  the  grave,"  he 
said,  in  a  desperate,  defiant  voice.  "  Parson, 
please  to  conclude.  At  the  first  word,  remem- 
ber, mother,  I'll  blow  my  brains  out." 

I  was  irresolute.     What  was  my  duty  ? 

"If  I  am  to  proceed,"  I  said  quietly,  "you 
must  put  that  weapon  up.  This  sacred  service 
must  not  be  made  a  burlesque :  nor  do  I  think 
a  man  with  murder  in  his  heart  is  fit  to  take  the 
solemn  pledges  of  wedlock." 

"  O  Sam,  dear !  he  is  right.  Put  that  terrible 
pistol  away  —  put  it  away,  dear.  Perhaps  it 
will  be  best." 

'"  Perhaps  what  will  be  best  ? "  he  asked,  soft- 
ened by  the  girl's  tears  and  sobs. 

"To  leave  it  all,  just  now :  it  would  be  awful 
to  be  married  in  this  way.  If  your  mother  can't 
like  me,  we'll  wait  a  while.  I  haven't  any  mother, 
and  I  should  be  so  happy  to  have  one !  but  — 
I  couldn't  be  happy  with  her  curse  upon  me." 


7O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

The  childish  face  was  so  grieved,  so  pitiful ! 
I  felt  myself  drawn  towards  her,  and  could  not 
blame  Sam  for  the  stand  he  had  taken.  I  could 
see  that  his  mother  was  a  little  touched  by  the 
girl's  tears. 

"  Madam,"  I  said,  turning  to  the  older  woman, 
"  what  have  you  against  this  young  lady  ? " 

"  She  is  a  foolish,  ignorant  girl.  She  couldn't 
make  a  loaf  of  bread  to  save  her  life.  She's 
not  the  one  I  would  have  chosen  for  him,  with 
a  snug  little  home  of  her  own,  and  a  capable, 
stirring  woman  in  the  bargain." 

"  And  twice  my  age,  sir,"  said  the  young 
man,  disdain  in  his  voice,  and  fire  in  his  eye. 
"A  woman  I  never  liked,  and  couldn't  love  if 
she  was  the  only  woman  in  the  world.  No,  sir : 
I  want  Ida,  and  Ida  wants  me ;  and  if  she's  ig- 
norant, having  been  in  a  shop  all  her  life,  she's 
teachable,  and  sweet  and  affectionate:  —  and 
the  amount  of  the  matter  is,  sir,  I  love  her,  and 
she  loves  me." 

"  Are  you  of  age  ? "  I  asked,  not  caring  to  let 
him  know  I  thought  his  argument  convincing. 

"  I  am,  sir." 

"He's  not,  sir  —  within  a  month,"  said  his 
mother  sharply. 

"Mother,  why  will  you  thwart  me  ?"  he  turned 
to  her  pleadingly.  "You  know  I'd  obey  you 
in  any  thing  reasonable.  You'll  drive  me  to 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  Jl 

death's  door  —  you've  almost  done  it  now. 
And  Ida  would  make  you  a  good  daughter :  she 
never  knew  a  mother's  love,  and  she  can't  live 
knowing  that  you  hate  her.  Won't  you  try 
her  ?  mother,  dear,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I'll  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  was  her  re- 
ply ;  "  and  I'll  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
you  or  her.  You  can  get  along  without  me. 
What's  a  mother  when  a  wife  comes  ? "  and  with 
a  cry  that  was  partly  grief,  partly  hate,  she 
turned,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Oh,  well ! "  the  young  man  said,  after  a 
pause :  "  mother'll  get  over  it.  I'm  all  she's 
got,  and  it  has  made  her  selfish.  I'm  afraid  she 
wouldn't  want  me  to  marry  any  one.  But,  you 
see,  I've  furnished  two  or  three  rooms  nicely, 
and  I  thought  perhaps  mother  would  come  and 
live  with  us.  Not  that  she  need  to,  for  she's 
got  a  good  home  of  her  own ;  but  it  was  Ida 
who  wanted  her,  poor  child  !  She  didn't  think, 
when  she  bought  the  orange-blossoms,  she  was 
going  to  have  such  a  time  as  this.  Come,  Ida  : 
parson'll  finish,  I  reckon." 

My  sympathies  were  with  the  sad  little 
woman,  and  so,  I  knew,  were  Hester's. 

"  Yes  :  as  your  mother  has  no  valid  reason 
to  forbid  the  banns,  I  think  I  am  authorized  in 
completing  the  ceremony,"  I  said ;  and  with 
tears  and  blushes  Ida  stood  up  once  more,  and 


72  TELL   YOUR    WIFE. 

I  had  almost  pronounced  them  man  and  wife 
when  Sam's  mother  rushed  in  again. 

"  O  Sam  !  I  can't  give  you  up  !  I  won't  give 
you  up !  If  you  marry  that  girl,  you'll  sign  my 
death-warrant.  What  has  she  done  for  you  ?  — 
worked,  starved,  fought,  all  but  died,  to  bring 
you  up  to  respectable  manhood  ?  Has  she  done 
all  that?  And  now  you  desert  me  for  that 
child!" 

"Mother,"  said  Sam  deprecatingly,  "you're 
too  late.  Go  on,  sir." 

I  finished  the  ceremony.  Then  Sam  did 
something  that  did  honor  to  his  head  and  heart. 
He  left  his  wife.  He  went  to  his  mother,  put 
his  arms  about  her;  and  as  she  stood  there, 
pallid  and  suffering,  he  kissed  her  two  or  three 
times.  The  action  was  very  fine.  She  melted 
down,  too,  and  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder, 
sobbing  softly. 

"  Now,  mother,  you'll  love  Ida,  won't  you  ?  " 
asked  Sam. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  sobbed  the  woman.  "  She's 
got  you  now,  and  I  don't  feel  like  loving  any- 
body." 

At  that  moment  the portitre  was  rushed  back ; 
and  there  stood  Hester,  like  a  beneficent  fairy, 
at  the  side  of  a  table  loaded  with  cake,  fruit, 
and  flowers. 

"  If  she  won't  love  you,  I  will,"  she  said,  ca- 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  73 

ressingly,  to  the  little,  trembling  bride,  as  she 
led  her  into  the  back  parlor.  "  Come,  madam, 
we  are  all  going  to  be  good  friends  hereafter," 
she  added  as  she  turned  to  the  irate  mother. 
"  We'll  have  a  little  wedding-feast,  to  commem- 
orate the  occasion  ;  and  I  shall  take  it  very  hard 
if  you  don't  come  too." 

Strangely  enough,  in  a  few  moments  we  were 
chatting  and  laughing  about  the  improvised 
board ;  and  I  was  blessing  Hester  in  my  heart, 
for  I  soon  saw  she  had  completely  won  over 
Sam's  mother.  An  hour  later  we  all  sat  to- 
gether discussing  the  exciting  incident.  Hes- 
ter was  folding  and  unfolding  a  five-dollar  bill. 

"  I'm  glad  it  was  a  five,"  she  said  :  "  there 
is  something  uncomfortably  mean  in  the  look 
of  a  two-dollar  marriage-fee." 

We  had  hardly  seated  ourselves,  and  Dolly 
had  the  manuscript  of  a  story  in  her  hand,  ready 
to  read  it  aloud,  when  the  bell  rang  again. 

"  It's  half-past  nine,"  said  Hester,  looking  up 
at  the  clock.  "  Well,  this  time  somebody  must 
be  dying !  Dolly,  let's  go  to  bed." 


74  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

"  There  are  mysteries  that  we  cannot  fathom,  even  in  our  daily  sur- 
roundings." 

DOLLY  gathered  up  her  papers  as  we  heard 
the  shuffling  footsteps  of  Jenkins. 

"  The  poor  fellow  was  getting  a  little  nap  by 
the  kitchen-fire,  I  dare  say,"  said  Hester.  "  He 
walks  as  if  he  were  asleep." 

The  door  burst  open,  and  there  stood  Mar- 
guerite, looking  as  if  she  rejoiced  in  our  aston- 
ishment. 

"Where,  in  the  name  of  the  fairies,  did  you 
come  from  ?"  ejaculated  Hester. 

"  Home,"  said  the  girl,  untying  the  scarlet 
ribbons  at  her  chin. 

"  Not  by  yourself  ? "  • 

"  Oh,  no !  John  came  with  me ;  and  he 
smoked  his  pipe  all  the  way,"  she  added,  with  a 
look  of  disgust.  "  I  smell  of  it,  even  in  my  bon- 
net-strings." 

"  I  don't  know  what  mother  was  thinking  of," 
said  Hester. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  75 

"  She  wasn't  thinking  of  it  anyway,  I  expect," 
said  the  child  nonchalantly,  coming  towards 
the  table,  and  swinging  her  hat  as  she  walked. 
"She  went  up  to  cousin  Miriam's  early  in  the 
evening,  and  then  she  sent  word  she  shouldn't 
be  back  to-night.  Miriam's  mother  is  worse,  I 
guess." 

"  And  what  made  you  think  of  coming  here, 
puss  ? "  asked  Hester.  "  Were  you  afraid  ? " 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  —  then  she  went  up  closer  to 
Hester.  —  "Mother  told  me  I  must." 

"What  a  singular  hallucination!"  I  said 
angrily.  "  Shall  we  never  break  the  child  of 
it?" 

" Why  didn't  you  come  earlier?"  queried  Hes- 
ter. 

"  I  was  in  at  Allie  Campbell's  "  (their  next- 
door  neighbor)  "  all  the  evening,  playing  games. 
It  was  nine  when  I  went  home,  and  I  was  get- 
ting ready  to  go  to  bed  when  mother  told  me." 

"  And  father  was  willing  to  let  you  come  ? " 
asked  Hester. 

"Oh!  he  don't  care,"  said  Marguerite.  "He 
was  busy  in  the  library  with  the  students'  ex- 
ercises, and  he  would  have  said  yes  to  every 
thing." 

"Oh,  well!  it's  all  right  enough.  She  can 
sleep  with  you,  Dolly  ; "  and  Hester  was  taking 
up  the  night-lamp  when  Marguerite  spoke. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 


"  Say,  cousin  Hester,  have  you  got  a  trunk- 


room 


"Why  —  yes,"  said  Hester,  looking  up.  "I 
suppose  that's  what  they  call  it,  at  the  top  of 
the  house." 

"  And  is  there  a  broken  statue  in  it  ?  —  the 
Polly  something  —  I've  forgotten  the  name." 

"What  in  the  world  do  you  ask  me  for,  child?" 
asked  Hester.  "Why,  yes,  —  didn't  you  have 
that  Apollo  carried  up  there  till  we  could  send 
it  to  be  mended  ? "  she  asked,  turning  to  me. 

The  question  recalled  to  me  the  fact  that  I 
had  sent  the  statue  up  by  Jenkins,  but  did  not 
know  where  he  put  it. 

"  It  is  certainly  up-stairs  somewhere,"  I  made 
reply. 

"  Oh  !  that's  where  it  is,"  said  the  child  confi- 
dently. "  Mother  knows  !  " 

I  was  conscious  of  a  decidedly  creepy  sensa- 
tion along  my  spine.  Marguerite  was  manip- 
ulating the  papier-macht  cutter  that  I  had  been 
using. 

"  Well,  and  suppose  it  is  :  what  of  it  ? "  asked 
Hester,  still  lingering. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  she  said,"  was  Marguerite's 
reply  :  "'If  you  will  go  up  into  cousin  Hester's 
trunk-room,  with  cousin  Hester  and  cousin  Hal, 
they  shall  hear  me  talk  to  you.'  " 

"  Gracious  heavens !  "  cried   Hester,  turning 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  77 

to  me :  "  did  ever  you  hear  such  a  monstrous 
proposal  ? " 

"And  then,"  continued  the  child,  turning 
over  the  pages  of  a  magazine,  "she  said  the 
trunk-room  was  up-stairs  under  the  roof,  with 
the  broken  statue  of  Apol  —  Apol "  — 

"Apollo  Belvedere,"  said  Dolly. 

"  Hal,  suppose  we  go  up  there,  just  to  see," 
said  Hester.  "  I  don't  know  where  the  statue 
is,  neither  do  you  :  come,  dear,  just  to  please  me. 
It  would  be  curious  enough  if  she  should  know 
what  neither  of  us  do." 

"  Nonsense !  there's  no  she  about  it,  and 
you  know  it,"  I  muttered ;  but  nevertheless  I 
was  a  trifle  curious ;  and  Hester  and  I  went  up- 
stairs, unconscious  that  Marguerite  followed  us 
stealthily. 

Arrived  at  the  trunk-room,  sure  enough  there 
stood  the  statue,  the  broken  arm  lying  on  the 
floor. 

"  I  told  you  she  said  so ! "  said  Marguerite, 
startling  me  so  suddenly  that  I  seemed  to  lose 
my  strength,  and  was  for  leaving  the  room ;  but 
Hester's  hand  was  on  my  arm. 

"  Now  we  are  here,  dear,"  she  said  softly,  "  I 
should  like  to  try  —  to  see,  that  is  —  if  —  we 
could  hear  any  thing,  you  know." 

"  I'll  not  have  to  do  with  the  works  of  dark- 
ness," I  said,  backing  to  the  door. 


78  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"But,  Hal,  just  to  please  me,  dear,"  said  Hes- 
ter. "  I  have  a  great  curiosity  —  I  always  have 
had  —  to  see  something  of  that  kind;  and,  if  I 
could  judge  for  myself,  it  would  be  so  much 
pleasanter !  It  certainly  can  do  us  no  harm." 

"  But  what  would  be  said,  Hester  ?  I,  a  min- 
ister of  the  gospel !  I  can't  sink  my  profes- 
sion"— 

"Nobody  need  ever  know  it,"  said  Hester; 
"and  we  sha'n't  hear  any  thing.  I've  no  faith, 
you  know  —  only  I  should  like  —  to  try." 

"  Well,  what  have  we  to  do  ?  Of  course  there's 
nothing  in  it ;  but  just  to  please  you,  as  Mar- 
guerite is  here." 

"  Yes,  yes  :  what  are  we  to  do  ? " 

"What  are  we  to  do,  Marguerite?"  I  asked. 

"  Nothing,"  came  in  a  low  voice :  "  she  is  here 
now.  I  see  her." 

"Hester,  go  down  :  this  is  unhallowed,"  I  said. 
And  then  I  think  I  felt  the  hair  rise  on  my 
temples ;  for  a  low  voice,  almost  a  whisper,  dis- 
tinctly said,  — 

"And  he  that  was  dead  came  forth." 

"  Marguerite,"  said  Hester. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"  Was  it  you  who  spoke  just  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed  ! "  was  the  earnest,  calm  re- 
ply :  "it  was  mother." 

"  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  Us  ! " 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  79 

I  exclaimed.  "  Let  us  get  out  of  this.  I  don't 
know  whether  the  ground  is  holy  or  unholy,  but 
let  us  get  out." 

Hester  opened  the  door. 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  hear  it  again,"  she  said, 
trembling. 

"It  was  Marguerite,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  don't  let  the  child  hear  you  :  it 
would  grieve  her  terribly." 

"Of  course  she  was  unconscious,  but  it  was 
she." 

We  went  down-stairs,  leaving  Marguerite  at 
Dolly's  door ;  and  the  child  went  in. 

Every  thing  in  the  pleasant  parlor  looked  un- 
real. Had  I,  or  had  I  not,  heard  a  voice  from 
the  dead  ? 

Hester  and  I  talked  it  over :  it  was  so  out  of 
the  order  of  things  that  Marguerite  should  have 
come  over  at  that  hour,  and,  altogether,  the 
child  was  unique.  I  couldn't  make  it  out,  though 
I  puzzled  my  brains  till  midnight.  Evidently  I 
had  been  deceived :  perhaps  my  own  ears  had 
deceived  me.  But  Hester  had  heard  it  as 
plainly  as  I  had,  and  she  was  very  pale  while  we 
talked  it  over. 

"  It's  all  very  well,"  she  said,  "  now  we  have 
heard  it,  but  I  don't  want  to  hear  it  again. 
What  a  strange  child  Marguerite  is  !  She's  not 
in  any  way  different  from  other  children  in  her 


8O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

manners,  just  as  childish  —  only  in  that  strange 
gift.  Oh  !  but,  Hal,  some  way  it  convinces  me 
that  there  is  truly  a  life  beyond  the  grave." 

"You  don't  tell  me  that  you  ever  had  any 
doubts  !  "  I  said,  rather  startled. 

"  I  don't  know  —  I'm  afraid  that  sometimes  — 
O  Hal !  I  am  so  afraid  of  dying.,  and  leaving 
you !  oh,  so  afraid !  It  don't  seem  as  if  any 
beyond  could  compensate  me :  it  don't  seem  as 
if  there  could  be  any  beyond  !  " 

She  hid  her  face  on  my  shoulder. 

"  Not  that  I  don't  try  to  be  a  good  Christian," 
she  said  a  moment  after,  with  tearful  eyes  and 
quivering  lips ;  "  but  naturally  I  doubt  every 
thing.  Papa  used  to  say  that  I  saw  things  too 
quickly  —  that  I  didn't  reason  enough  ;  and  I 
suppose  I  don't.  Sometimes  when  you  preach 
such  glowing  sermons  of  the  heavenly  beyond,  I 
am  lifted  up,  even  to  the  pearly  gates  :  but  when 
your  voice- is  still,  when  I  see  all  the  common- 
place people  steeped  in  their  commonplace 
duties,  and  never  seeming  to  look  beyond  them- 
selves, then  that  cold  shiver  of  doubt  comes  over 
me;  and  —  I'm  glad  of  what  I  heard  to-night, 
though  I  can't  realize,  and  can't  believe  it. 
Now,  father-priest,  I  have  made  my  confession, 
and  you  must  deal  with  me.  What  sort  of  a 
penance  must  I  perform  ? " 

"  Love  me  dearly,  and  leave  your  future  with 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  8 1 

God.  You  need  not  fear,  dear  wife,  while  your 
life  is  so  full  of  kindly  offices  for  others  and  for 
Him." 

"  I  hope  He  will  spare  us  for  a  long  life  of  use- 
fulness, and  then  take  us  together,"  she  said,  to 
which  I  echoed  a  hearty  Amen. 

In  the  morning  Marguerite  took  breakfast 
with  us,  chatting  like  a  magpie,  utterly  forget- 
ful, apparently,  of  the  singular  occurrence  of  the 
past  night.  To  me  it  all  seemed  like  a  dream. 
I  did  not  credit  my  own  senses,  and  tried  to 
dismiss  the  matter  from  my  mind.  All  this 
was  as  nothing,  however,  compared  with  what 
came  afterwards,  in  the  shape  of  a  note  from 
Marguerite. 

"  DEAR  COUSIN  HESTER,  —  You  know  I  went  from  your 
house  to  school,  thinking  there  was  no  need  to  go  home. 
Well,  I  got  all  my  lessons  to  perfection,  and  went  home 
early.  Mrs.  Moss  met  me  at  the  door,  holding  up  both 
hands. 

" '  To  think  what  you've  been  saved  from,  child ! '  she 
said. .  '  It's  a  meracle.'  Then  she  took  me  up-stairs  into 
my  own  little  room,  and  there  was  my  bed  crushed  and 
broken  by  the  ceiling  which  had  fallen  on  it  in  great 
masses.  I  should  have  been  killed,  so  that's  why  mamma 
sent  me  to  you.  Isn't  God  good  ?  " 

Mrs.  Moss  was  the  housekeeper. 
Hester  read  the  little  missive,  and  the  tears 
welled  up  to  her  eyes. 


82  TELL   YOUR  WIFE. 

"It  does  seem  as  if  she  had  a  special  pro- 
tector," she  said. 

"  We  all  have,"  said  Dolly ;  "  but  this  cer- 
tainly was  providential  in  a  wonderful  degree." 

That  afternoon  Hester's  mother  called ;  and 
I  was  behind  the  portiere,  filling  out  a  marriage 
certificate.  Hester  pulled  up  the  big  chair,  and 
saw  her  mother  settled  comfortably,  and  then 
they  talked  of  ordinary  matters  till  Hester  spoke 
of  Marguerite. 

"So  queer  of  the  child  to  take  a  notion  to 
come  here  that  hour  of  the  night,  wasn't  it  ? 
Well,  it  saved  her  life ;  and  I've  been  talking 
to  father  about  that  ceiling  for  months.  Now 
we've  got  to  have  it  in  new  ;  and  I'm  determined 
to  turn  the  room  into  a  library,  and  have  a  hand- 
some ceiling,  now  we're  about  it.  It  will  all 
have  to  be  done  up,  and  there's  a  room  just  as 
good  for  Maggy." 

"  How  is  aunt  Hope  ? "  asked  Hester. 

"Better  to-day  —  had  one  of  her  sinking- 
spells  yesterday,  and  I  really  think  she'll  go  if 
she  has  another.  She  don't  seem  to  realize 
how  ill  she  is,  —  ill  sounds  so  much  better  than 
sick,  you  know:  we  learned  that  in  England, 
and  very  glad  am  I  that  we  did." 

"  Don't  Miriam  leave  the  house,  ever  ? "  asked 
Hester.  "  I  don't  know  when  she  has  been 
here." 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  83 

I  could  see  Mrs.  Vaughan  at  this  question 
open  and  shut  her  reticule,  shake  her  head, 
purse  up  her  lips,  and  look  very  prim  and  grim. 
She  had  heard  of  that  little  episode,  and  had 
once  essayed  to  lecture  me  ;  but  I  had  cut  her 
short  with  rather  unclerical  acerbity,  and  she 
had  not  forgotten  it. 

"Miriam,  poor  child!  has  had  her  troubles 
too.  No,  she  seldom  goes  out.  She  is  a  most 
devoted  child.  I'm  afraid  she  is  working  beyond 
her  strength." 

"Of  course  she  is  devoted,"  says  Hester:  "she 
ought  to  be.  It's  her  own  mother  she's  caring 
for.  Only  it  would  be  better  for  both  if  Miriam 
would  take  more  exercise.  I  think  she  might 
come  and  see  us  once  in  a  while." 

"She  might  come  to  see  you"  says  Mrs. 
Vaughan,  with  impressive  emphasis.  I  see  the 
solemn  shake  of  the  head,  the  tightly  shut  lips. 

"  And,  pray,  why  not  us  f  "  asks  Hester,  her 
voice  a  trifle  sharper. 

"  Oh  !  I  dare  say  she  has  her  reasons,"  is  the 
evasive  reply. 

"I  dare  say  she  has,"  says  Hester;  "but  I 
do  think  she  might  be  more  cousinly.  I  always 
liked  Miriam,  but  she  doesn't  seem  to  like  me. 
Well,  she  must  judge  for  herself." 

"We  don't  know  everybody's  private  experi- 
ence," says  Mrs.  Vaughan  significantly. 


84  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  It's  well  we  don't,"  Hester  responds. 

"Yes,  perhaps  —  only  don't  judge  Miriam 
harshly,  poor  child !  She  makes  no  confidantes, 
but  I  can  tell  you  she  has  been  sadly  deceived." 

"For  patience'  sake  !  "  cries  Hester:  "  I  never 
dreamed  that  of  Miriam.  Who  was  it  ?  I  didn't 
know  she  ever  had  a  lover  except  that  bald- 
headed  Pinkerton.  You  don't  tell  me  that  he 
blighted  her  young  affections !  Miriam  never 
seemed  to  me  to  care  to  be  settled  in  life. 
Who  was  the  blighter  ?  Please  tell  me.  Was 
it  while  I  was  away  ? " 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation  I  see  fit  to 
raise  the  curtain,  and  make  my  appearance  on 
the  carpet.  Of  course  Miriam's  name  is  dropped 
—  for  this  day  only. 


TELL   YOUR    WIFE.  85 


CHAPTER   X. 

"  No  sense,  no  wit,  no  humor,  only  a  figure-head,  a  •woman  lacking 
in  all  things  but  vanity." 

MIRIAM  !  Why  should  the  mere  mention  of 
her  annoy  me  ?  I  had  put  her  out  of  my 
life  so  completely,  that,  unless  her  name  was 
brought  up  in  some  such  way  as  Mrs.  Vaughan 
had  mentioned  it,  it  never  occurred  to  me.  The 
Hopes  had  long  ago  given  up  their  pew.  Miriam 
never  came  to  church.  When  she  called,  which, 
as  Hester  had  said,  was  but  seldom,  she  never 
remained  till  I  came  in  the  house ;  and  of  late 
Hester  seldom  spoke  of  her. 

As  soon  as  my  wife's  mother  left  us,  I  went 
into  the  study.  It  was  quite  dark.  The  gas 
burned  low.  I  turned  it  up,  and  was  about  to 
sit  down,  when  the  notion  took  me  to  go  into 
the  chancel.  I  knew  the  choir  had  stopped 
practice,  and  had  probably  gone.  It  therefore 
surprised  me  somewhat  to  hear  voices  as  I  stood 
there  quite  hidden  by  the  darkness.  There  was 
only  one  light  burning  in  the  choir ;  and  by  it  I 


86  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

saw  the  face  of  my  tenor,  Tom  Tracy.  He  had 
an  exceptionally  fine,  pure  face.  I  had  often 
wondered  why  a  man  who  had  so  little  sym- 
pathy for  the  offices  of  religion  could  so  carry 
the  countenance  of  a  saint.  But  Tom  was  not 
alone.  Now  and  again  I  heard  a  low,  musical 
laugh,  and  then  a  woman's  voice,  subdued  but 
ringing. 

"  O  Tom  !  as  if  I  could  forget" 

Turning  uneasily,  I  met  Jenkins's  inquisitive 
orbs  fastened  on  my  face.  There  was  a  keen 
intelligence  in  his  glance. 

"  Do  they  often  stop  in  this  way,  Jenkins  ? " 
I  asked. 

"  As  a  gineral  thing,"  said  Jenkins,  still  ey- 
ing me.  His  ears  seemed  fairly  to  vibrate  with 
intelligence. 

The  words  that  my  wife  had  spoken  forced 
themselves  upon  my  memory,  — 

"  I  don't  like  her  face.  I  don't  think  her  a 
woman  who  would  try  to  make  her  husband 
happy." 

Then  the  countenance  of  Mrs.  Tracy  came 
before  me,  —  the  look  of  habitual  grief,  the  ef- 
fort of  her  smile,  the  something  unexplainable 
by  which  the  least  practised  eye  can  read  the 
secret  of  a  heart  wounded  to  the  core.  A  quick 
tremor  ran  through  my  veins  as  though  the 
matter  were  personal  to  myself ;  and  I  hurried 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  8/ 

back  into  the  study,  angry  with  Tom  Tracy, 
and  disgusted  with  the  organist  for  daring  to 
use  his  name  so  familiarly. 

Another  mood  took  me.  I  went  in  the  chan- 
cel, and  walked  down  the  aisle,  humming  audi- 
bly. The  clock  said  half-past  eight :  my  eyes 
were  steadfastly  fixed  on  the  dial.  The  talk 
ceased ;  and  Tom  came  down  the  choir-steps 
with  a  smile  as  serene  as  that  of  an  angel,  fol- 
lowed by  Mrs.  Stanley,  upon  whose  fair,  false 
face  the  light  was  strongly  reflected  as  she 
passed  me.  A  large  broad-brimmed  hat  shaded 
her  great,  passionate  eyes  ;  and  her  hair,  partly 
curled,  lay  in  masses  on  her  forehead.  That 
she  was  beautiful,  as  men  count  beauty,  could 
not  be  denied. 

"  We  got  through  earlier  than  usual,"  said 
Tom,  with  the  frankness  of  a  child.  "  I  think 
we'll  try  Steiner's  Te  Deum  next  Sunday  for 
the  first  time." 

"Very  well,"  I  answered  in  a  constrained 
voice.  "  How  is  your  wife,  Mr.  Tracy  ?" 

"  Well,  thanks,  she  is  about  as  usual,  —  com- 
plaining a  little  ;  never  quite  on  the  rugged 
order ;  constitutional  sort  of  thing,"  he  an- 
swered cherubically. 

He  passed  out  of  the  church-door  after  a  com- 
monplace sentence  or  two,  and  walked  down 
the  yard  with  Mrs.  Stanley,  she  with  her  arm 


88  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

in  his.  What  right  had  I  to  watch  them,  with 
an  almost  irresistible  desire  to  tear  them  asun- 
der ?  I  was  no  knight-errant  to  fight  for  other 
men's  wives;  so  I  bottled  up  my  wrath,  and 
entered  my  study  again. 

Behold,  it  was  tenanted !  A  woman,  her 
tangled  hair  escaping  from  a  nondescript  bon- 
net, her  hands  half  gloved,  the  wrinkled  backs 
coming  just  over  her  coarse  red  knuckles,  sat 
in  my  study-chair,  apparently  reading  the  open 
letter  that  lay  on  my  desk. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  I  do  beg  your  parding  "  —  and 
here  she  pulled  out  a  hair-pin,  and  thrust  it, 
with  a  bunch  of  frowsy  hair,  on  the  other  side 
of  her  forehead.  "  I  had  so  little  time  along  of 
the  baby's  bein'  sick  ( he's  my  sevingth,  and  his 
name  is  George  Chartres  Magnolia  Dickory), 
that,  says  I  to  Mr.  Dickory  (a  tailor,  sir,  and 
fitting  with  that  accuracy  that  you'd  declare  the 
clothes  was  pasted  on.  In  Hingland  it  was  he 
learned  his  trade :  he  and  me  be  both  Hinglish 
born ),  —  and  says  I  to  him  at  supper,  '  I  have 
not  treated  the  new  minister  with  proper  re- 
spect. Halpin  (which  is  his  first  name,  and 
named  after  the  second  cousin  of  his  father, 
which  were  a  clergyman  of«the  Church  of  Hing- 
land) and  you  must  wash  the  dishes,  and  tend 
to  the  children,  particularly  giving  George  Char- 
tres his  drops  every  ten  minutes.'  You  see,  it 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  89 

is  so  hard  for  me  to  git  out  of  the  house,  doin' 
my  own  work  as  I  does,  —  no  housekeeper,  no 
nurse,  no  cook,  as  my  mother  had  before  me, 
—  that  I  have  to  neglect  many  of  my  social 
duties.  Well,  and  how  are  you?  and  how  do 
you  like  us  here  ? " 

Taken  aback  at  this  flow  of  words,  at  the  re- 
markable appearance  of  my  unlooked-for  visitor, 
in  whose  face  was  a  mingling  of  shrewdness, 
good  nature,  and  vulgarity,  and  in  her  manner 
an  audacity  which  was  not  the  result  of  igno- 
rance mainly,  but  of  an  intense  self-esteem,  I 
could  not  have  spoken  but  for  the  time  she  gave 
me  to  collect  my  thoughts. 

The  name  seemed  familiar  to  me,  but  I  had 
forgotten  in  what  connection  I  had  heard  it 
spoken  of ;  and  it  only  haunted  me  as  the  echo 
haunts  the  voice,  with  no  definite  result. 

"  I  thank  you,"  I  made  reply,  seating  myself 
on  the  lounge,  leaving  her  master  of  my  desk 
and  of  me  :  "  I  am  pleased  with  the  people,  and 
very  comfortable  at  present." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that ; "  and  she 
made  a  futile  effort  to  draw  her  gloves  over  her 
bony  hands.  "  I  spoze  maybe  you  didn't  know 
dear  old  Mr.  Stillwater,  as  was  the  last  rector. 
We  fairly  idolized  him  ;  and  I  was  that  familiar 
in  the  family,  that  I'd  go  in  without  knocking. 
He  baptized  all  my  dear  children,  savin'  and 


9O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

accepting  George  Chartres  Magnolia,  which  I 
hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  crossed 
under  your  hands,  trusting  your  benediction 
will  make  a  man  of  him.  And  his  coats  always 
did  fit  without  no  effort  on  his  part.  He  just 
put  himself  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Dickory  with- 
out reserve  ;  and  if  they  was  ordered  at  nine  at 
night,  to  be  done  at  four  in  the  morning,  Dick- 
ory was  the  man  to  be  on  time  if  he  had  to  set 
up  two  nights  to  do  it.  Its  a  hard-working  par- 
ish, too ;  and  it  takes  all  one's  time  to  go  over 
it,  as  I  know  who  always  carries  my  husband's 
work  home ;  and  plenty  of  custom  he  have, 
always  willing  to  take  care  of  the  children  :  and 
turn  and  turn  about  is  my  motto  for  married 
folks.  To  be  sure,  house-work  doesn't  come  so 
handy  to  the  men,  especially  if  they  haven't 
been  brought  up  to  it ;  but  they  do  very  well  if 
they  practise,  as  they  all  ought  to.  It's  their 
privileges,  only  they  don't  know  it.  But  la! 
you  haven't  been  married  long  enough  to  know  : 
wait  till  you  git  a  houseful  of  children  your- 
self." 

By  this  time  I  was  utterly  disgusted.  I  had 
never  met  in  all  my  life,  ministerial  or  other- 
wise, a  character  so  offensive ;  and  it  made  me 
tremble  for  my  own  manhood.  I  felt  an  almost 
irresistible  desire  to  rise  up,  and  order  her  to  the 
door,  more  than  once,  or  to  give  her  a  piece  of 


TELL   YOUR    WIFE.  9! 

my  mind.  Come  what  would,  she  should  never 
have  the  opportunity  to  trouble  Hester,  or  any 
of  my  household.  I  do  not  think  I  have  in  any 
case  a  large  share  of  grace :  the  human  is  con- 
stantly knocking  at  the  door  of  the  spiritual, 
and  demanding  entrance,  with  all  its  faults  and 
foibles,  its  little  weaknesses  and  tempers.  I  saw 
in  my  mind's  eye  the  copious  possibilities  of 
future  annoyance,  both  to  my  wife  and  myself, 
in  this  very  respectable  but  voluble  and  unpleas- 
ant person,  and  mentally  decided  to  encourage 
neither  her  nor  her  husband.  How  many  more 
of  these  purely  material  natures,  as  opposed  to 
the  ideal  characters  I  had  mentally  assigned 
to  the  different  portions  of  the  congregation,  I 
had  under  my  spiritual  care,  I  had  yet  to  learn. 
This  evening's  experience  had  unfolded  two  ex- 
tremes in  the  persons  of  Mr.  Tom  Tracy  and 
Mrs.  Dickory.  One  of  my  friends  had  warned 
me  against  several  whom  he  denominated  cranks, 
among  them  several  noted  for  miserly  qualities, 
and  others  for  unbridled  temper,  the  latter  usu- 
ally stirring  the  parish  to  a  ferment  once  or 
twice  a  year. 

"Well,  I  must  go,"  said  Mrs.  Dickory,  gra- 
ciously vacating  the  rector's  chair,  and  pulling 
her  gloves  half  way  over  her  knuckles  in  a  vain 
effort  to  make  them  smooth.  "  I  should  like  to 
have  seen  your  wife ;  though  I  really  did  expect, 


92  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

from  what  I  heard,  that  her  cousin  would  step 
into  her  shoes,  as  the  sayin'  is.  I  shall  be  sure 
to  come  to  church  as  often  as  I  can,  though  I 
must  always  bring  the  children." 

"  All  of  them  ?  "    I  was  surprised  into  saying. 

"  Oh,  no !  Dickory  will  take  care  of  the 
babies : "  and,  with  the  oddest  series  of  bows 
and  nods  it  was  ever  my  experience  to  behold, 
she  took  her  leave ;  and  I  sat  listening  to  her 
departing  footsteps. 

"Well!" 

It  was  an  ejaculation  that  had  meaning.  I 
looked  up.  There  stood  Hester,  her  beautiful 
face  cameo-like,  brilliant  against  the  back- 
ground of  the  darkness. 

"  Have  they  all  gone  ? "  she  asked. 

"The  choir  ?  oh,  yes  !  long  ago." 

"I  am  so  disappointed!  I  even  sent  Dolly 
into  the  study  for  you,  but  you  were  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  We  have  had  visitors  —  such  vis- 
itors ! " 

"  And  I  have  had  a  visitor !  such  a  visitor ! " 

"  Who  was  it,  pray  ? " 

"Mrs.  Dickory." 

"  What !  is  her  husband  a  tailor  ? " 

"  So  she  says." 

"O  Hal!  she  will  kill  you!"  and  Hester 
laughed.  "  You  have  passed  your  examination 
with  credit,  I  hope.  Have  either  of  the  young 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  93 

Dickories  chicken-pox  or  measles  ?  I  assure  you, 
she  would  come  to  you  sooner  than  to  the  doc- 
tor. O  Hal !  I  pity,  but  I  cannot  help  you  ;  for, 
if  she  ever  comes  to  me,  I  shall  snub  her.  But 
there's  this  consolation,  —  if  the  act  on  my  part 
is  uncharitable  or  unchristian,  she  won't  know 
it.  You  haven't  asked  yet  who  our  visitors 
were." 

j  My  darling  had  by  this  time  ensconced  herself 
in  the  rector's  chair ;  and  this  picture  so  effect- 
ually effaced  the  other,  that  I  was  myself  again, 
and  of  course  asked  the  expected  question. 

"Well,  do  you  know  Mrs.  Whitby  of  the 
Elms  ?  Yes,  of  course  you  do.  It  was  she  who 
came,  bringing  with  her  a  live  count !  —  a  frag- 
ment of  the  old  French  nobility,  though  he 
walks  through  this  weary  world  as  plain  Mr. 
Ravaillac.  But,  my  dear,  he  is  the  most  dis- 
tinguished-looking man  I  have  met  out  of  his 
native  element,  the  air  of  France.  I  do  assure 
you  he  is  charmingly  handsome,  and  accentuates 
his  language  delightfully." 

"  You  are  certainly  enthusiastic  over  a  stran- 
ger," I  said,  a  little  nettled. 

"No  more  than  you  will  be  when  you  see 
him,"  said  Hester.  "Just  ask  Dolly!  I  intro- 
duced her  as  Mary,  and  it  was  delicious  to  hear 
him  pronounce  it  as  Marie.  Haven't  you  written 
your  sermon  yet?  Oh,  pray  let  me  finish  it!" 


94  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

"  I  beg  you  to  do  so,"  I  said. 

I  had  left  the  last  sentence  thus  :  — 

"  Finally,  beloved  "  — 

"Shall  I  add,  'disciples  of  the  proper?'"  she 
asked,  and  then  wrote  on,  — 

"  Finally,  beloved,  go  home  in  peace,  eat 
your  dinners  in  amity,  scold  your  wives  in  len- 
iency, punish  your  children  in  equity,  sand  your 
sugar  in  scarcity,  water  your  milk  in  paucity, 
speak  of  all  men  (and  women  too)  in  charity, 
live  as  you  should  in  purity,  and  I  promise  you 
as  a  surety  you  will  go  to  the  regions  of  the 
honest  and  the  try-to-do-right  in  the  sublime 
radiance  of  the  great  hereafter." 

I  did  not  see  what  she  had  written  till  the 
following  day,  when  I  had  forgotten  the  circum= 
stance.  She  had  spoiled  a  sheet  of  my  sermon' 
paper  ;  but  I  followed  out  her  suggestions,  after1 
a  hearty  laugh  all  to  myself,  which  brought 
Jenkins  to  the  door,  with  his  long  ears  as  red 
as  beets,  and  his  blue  eyes  protruding  like 
saucers. 

"Never  mind,  Jenkins,"  I  said:  "it  was 
something  I  was  thinking  of." 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  95 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"  One  cannot  tell  what  virtues  he  possesses,  but  he  speaks  three 
languages." 

ON  the  following  Sunday,  Mrs.  Whitby,  who 
occupied  the  third  pew  from  the  chancel, 
came  to  church,  accompanied  by  her  eldest 
daughter  Mabel  and  the  French  count.  Mrs. 
Whitby  was  rich,  handsome,  stylish,  capable, 
and  —  Mrs.  Whitby  of  the  Elms  !  She  lived  in 
a  palace  of  a  house,  whose  adornments  my  poor 
pen  could  but  faintly  portray.  Mr.  Whitby  was 
a  merchant,  and  one  of  the  few  rich  men  of  my 
parish,  bald-headed,  red-faced,  and  pompous. 
He  cared  little  for  splendor,  and  all  for  business. 
His  stores  took  up  whole  blocks ;  his  ships 
navigated  every  ocean  ;  his  schemes  were  stu- 
pendous, and  never  failed.  He  had  clerks  by 
the  score :  and  one  of  the  best  of  these  was 
Monsieur  Ravaillac,  who,  on  account  of  his 
ability  to  translate  in  three  different  languages, 
received  a  much  larger  salary  than  his  fellows  ; 
and  on  account  of  his  misfortune  in  having  been 


96  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

reduced  from  the  ranks  of  the  nobility  to  the 
ranks  of  the  canaille,  poor  fellow !  had  the 
entree  of  the  Elms,  and  was  a  privileged  charac- 
ter at  all  their  entertainments. 

If  you  ever  met  a  man  with  a  Greek  face, 
English  shoulders,  and  a  French  mustache,  you 
have  seen  Ravaillac's  double,  perhaps.  I  did 
not  wonder  at  my  wife's  enthusiastic  descrip- 
tion of  the  fellow.  He  was  handsome  enough 
to  warm  the  heart  of  a  statue.  Only  a  few 
weeks  passed  before  he  became  a  constant 
caller  at  our  house.  His  varied  accomplish- 
ments —  musical,  literary,  and  aesthetic  —  made 
him  a  more  than  agreeable  companion.  He 
spoke  English  intrepidly,  with  now  and  then  a 
lapse  that  made  his  sentences  inimitable,  and  so 
impressed  one,  that  to  forget  them  was  impos- 
sible. The  Greek  beauty  of  his  face  was  of  the 
most  commanding  type.  I  soon  saw,  what  be- 
came apparent  to  every  one,  that  Dolly  was  the 
magnet  that  attracted  him.  Add  to  a  magnetic 
countenance  a  mind  of  exceptional  strength, 
the  utmost  refinement  in  manners,  and  a  spirit 
apparently  thoroughly  imbued  with  high  princi- 
ples and  religious  sentiments,  and  what  young 
girl  would  not  feel  flattered  by  the  attentions  of 
such  a  man  ? 

My  wife  was  delighted. 

"  As  sure  as  you  live,  he'll  marr^y  Dolly,"  she 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  97 

said  one  evening  when  we  were  talking  it  over, 
"and  take  her  to  Paris.  It  is  just  delightful  to 
hear  him  talk  of  his  home  in  Paris ;  his  little 
grandmother,  whose  devotion  to  the  Bonapartes 
is  still  undiminished ;  and  his  lovely  sister  Elise, 
who  is  married  to  a  colonel  in  the  French  army. 
He  is  a  scion  of  the  old  nobility,  too  ;  and  I  de- 
clare, I  have  a  reverence  for  old  families,  my- 
self; and  I  believe  everybody  has.  He  will 
bring  the  picture  of  his  sister,  whom  he  speaks 
of  as  mon  ange,  to-night.  It  is  very  sweet  to 
hear  the  tender  expressions  that  fall  from  his 
lips  when  he  refers  to  her.  Mrs.  Whitby  says 
he  is  very  popular  among  her  acquaintances ; 
and  don't  you  think  him  fond  of  Dolly  ? " 

"  I  have  noticed  it,"  I  said,  as  she  brought 
round  the  silken  cord  of  the  dressing-gown  she 
had  just  helped  me  into. 

"  Yes,  of  course  you  have.  It  is  dear  little 
Dolly's  greatest  ambition,  you  know,  to  travel. 
How  much  it  would  add  to  her  varied  accom- 
plishments !  I  wish  she  could  have  gone  in  my 
place :  I  never  really  cared  so  much  about  it. 
But  Mr.  Ravaillac  is  such  a  gentleman !  there's 
only — only" —  she  hesitated;  then,  as  her  eyes 
caught  mine,  she  laughed. 

"  Only  a  tiny  bit  of  a  doubt,  hardly  born  yet, 
that  he  may  not  be  quite  what  he  assumes ;  but 
it  only  comes  to  me  now  and  then,  and  is  not 


98  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

big  enough  to  stand  alone.  It  makes  me  rather 
watchful,  that's  all,  for  Dolly's  sake,  you  know. 
Oh !  by  the  way,  I  am  going  to  call  on  that 
pretty  Mrs.  Tracy  to-day,  your  tenor's  wife ; 
and  I  shall  also  take  in  the  Hopes  on  my  way 
home.  I'm  afraid  aunt  Hope  is  very  ill.  Papa 
was  there  yesterday." 

That  night  Hester,  as  was  her  usual  habit, 
recounted  the  incidents  of  the  day. 

"  And  did  Mrs.  Tracy  confirm  your  previous 
impressions  ? "  I  asked. 

"  More  than  that,"  she  said.  "  She  gave  me 
the  first  genuine  heart-ache  I  ever  had  in  my 
life." 

"  She  was  very  unhappy,  then  ? " 

"On  the  contrary,  brilliant,  and  seemingly 
overflowing  with  life.  Her  house  and  its  ap- 
pointments, but  for  her  exquisite  taste,  would 
be  like  a  bazaar  of  Oriental  splendor.  But,  oh, 
dear!  she  is  not  happy." 

"And  yet  you  intimate  that  she  was  gay." 

"Apparently.  But  once  I  touched  a  secret 
spring,  that  shadowed  the  beauty  both  of  house 
and  hostess.  On  a  bracket  stood  an  exquisite 
medallion,  —  a  face  painted  in  oils.  I  exclaimed 
admiringly,  but  it  was  the  painter's  art  that 
surprised  me.  I  had  quite  forgotten  the  face, 
and  yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  seen  it 
before. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  99 

" '  Do  you  like  it  ? '  she  asked  ;  and  a  strange 
intensity  changed  her  voice. 

"  '  No  —  I  don't  like  it  —  exactly,'  I  made 
reply  :  'there  is  something  false  in  the  face.' 

"  Then  it  flashed  over  me  who  it  was ;  for  I 
saw  her  cheek  pale,  and  her  lip  quiver. 

"  '  She  is  a  friend  for  whom  my  husband  pro- 
cured a  situation,'  she  said. 

"  '  And  she  sent  that  as  a  token  of  her  grati- 
tude ? '  I  asked,  astounded. 

" '  Oh,  no !  my  husband  bought  that  of  the 
artist  who  painted  it.  I  think  it  was  her 
brother,  and  he  was  in  great  need.'  ' 

"  I  see  no  real  harm  in  that,"  I  said. 

"  Don't  you  ?  well,  I  do ; "  and  my  Hester's 
gentle  eyes  flashed.  "  Why  didn't  he  order 
some  other  picture  ?  To  set  that  up  before  the 
eyes  of  his  wife !  I'd  have  thrown  it  into  the 
fire  !  Better  to  die  than  be  so  insulted  !  There 
are  things  that  men  have  done,  honorable  men 
so  called,  that  they  have  never  told  their  wives. 
Perhaps,  the  temptation  having  passed,  and  the 
deeds  been  repented  of,  that  is  best ;  but  it  is 
well  you  had  nothing  to  conceal." 

She  took  my  hand  caressingly. 

"  And  that  is  why  I  felt  my  happiness  would 
be  safe  in  your  keeping,  for  I  have  a  tendency 
to  be  desperately  jealous  —  but  only  for  cause, 
sir, "  she  added,  smiling.  "  I  knew  a  clergy- 


IOO  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

man,  as  a  mere  man,  was  no  better  than  others ; 
but,  as  a  priest,  his  calling  imposed  upon  him 
the  strictest  watch  over  his  own  inclinations, 
and  the  most  guarded  care  over  his  own  na- 
ture, that  he  might  be  a  guide  to  others." 
f  "  And  was  this  all  of  your  interview  with  Mrs. 
Tracy  ? "  I  asked,  feeling  a  certain  little  stab  as 
she  thus  unconsciously  arraigned  me  before  the 
tribunal  of  my  own  conscience. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  I  found  out  that  she  was  the 
most  wretched  woman,  with  her  affectation  of 
light-heartedness,  that  I  ever  met.  Her  daugh- 
ter came  in  from  a  neighbor's  while  I  was  there, 
—  a  delicate,  lovely  creature,  with  an  aureole 
of  true  golden  hair,  and  the  blue  of  her  eyes  was 
as  blue  as  heaven.  By  the  way,  she  watched 
her  mother,  hung  on  her  words,  touched  her 
with  such  soft  touches,  —  every  movement  a 
caress.  I  could  see  that  she,  too,  suffered.  Oh, 
some  day  I  shall  hear  such  a  story  !  I  am  sure 
of  it,  and  it  will  make  me  miserable." 

"  No  :  you  shall  not  take  upon  yourself  the 
sorrows  of  my  parishioners,"  I  said.  "That  is 
my  duty  and  my  cross." 

"And  I  am  not  to  help  my  husband  in  the 
sterner  calling  of  his  pastorate  ?  Did  you 
choose  me  only  to  set  me  over  your  household 
gods,  to  pet  you  when  you  are  tired,  and  to 
watch  you  doing  good  afar  off  ?  No,  no  :  I  am 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  IOI 

better  than  that,  woman  though  I  am.  I  love 
home  dearly,  but  I  want  to  feel  that  I  am  a 
helper  as  well  as  a  comforter  outside  of  home." 

"  Did  you  go  to  your  cousin's  ? "  I  asked,  after 
giving  her  a  kiss ;  for  I  could  not  gainsay  her 
sweet  fervor,  though  I  determined  she  should 
know  as  little  as  possible  of  my  harsh  conflict 
with  the  outer  world. 

"Yes,  and  found  aunt  Hope  very  low:  in- 
deed, I  knew  it  before.  I  don't  believe  she  will 
live  long,  for  Marguerite  dreamed  she  died  ; 
and  what  that  child  dreams  always  comes  true." 

"  You  put  too  much  faith  in  that  little  chit," 
was  my  rejoinder.  Marguerite  was  not  a  favor- 
ite with  me,  on  a  more  intimate  acquaintance. 
There  was  something  uncanny  about  the  child  ; 
and  I  hated  the  mysterious,  save  and  excepting 
the  mysteries  of  our  holy  religion.  Marguerite 
went  to  school  now,  a  select  school,  two  or 
three  miles  out  of  the  city  ;  and  we  rarely  saw 
her  except  under  the  professor's  roof. 

"  One  can't  ignore  one's  experience,"  said 
Hester.  "  I  never  told  you,  but  one  day  Mar- 
guerite came  over  here,  and  said  she  dreamed 
Dick  fell  off  his  perch,  dead ;  and  the  child  had 
hardly  left  the  house  before  the  dear  little  fel- 
low was  dead.  If  one  can't  understand,  one 
must  believe.  You  can't  ignore  simple  facts." 

"Merely   a    coincidence,"    was    my   answer. 


IO2  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  What  will  your  cousin  do  if  her  mother  should 
die?" 

"  I  think  she  will  go  home  to  mother's. 
Mother  has  talked  it  over  a  good  deal,  and  is 
not  satisfied  with  the  school  where  Marguerite 
goes.  She  wants  to  send  her  to  the  sisters', 
but  papa  absolutely  forbids  that.  Miriam  is 
highly  educated,  you  know,  and  could  teach 
Marguerite  at  home.  That  would  suit  on  all 
sides." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  so,"  I  said  dubiously. 
It  was  not  pleasant  to  think  of  Miriam  as  so 
near  a  neighbor.  Indeed,  if  I  could  have  ig- 
nored her  utterly,  I  should  have  been  more  than 
glad  to  do  so. 

"  It's  one  of  the  inexplicable  things,"  said 
Hester,  "  that  my  aunt  has  taken  such  a  dislike 
to  you.  It  must  be  the  disease  affects  her 
-mind.  Why,  she  used  to  call  you  'that  divine 
young  man,'  and  was  always  sounding  your 
praises  before  we  left  for  Europe.  It  is  cer- 
tainly unaccountable." 

"  Sick  people  often  take  such  freaks,"  I  said, 
and  changed  the  subject. 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  IO3 


CHAPTER   XII. 

"  Sleek  and  fair-faced, 
Assuming  respectability,  full  of  old  anecdotes." 

"  A  GENTLEMAN  to  see  you,"  said  Jen- 
2\  kins  one  morning. 

Jenkins  stood  like  a  great  blur  in  the  door- 
way ;  for  it  was  blue  Monday,  and  I  was  a  little 
out  of  sorts.  His  ears  looked  broader  and 
longer  than  ever. 

"  I  did  hope  I  could  have  an  hour  to  myself," 
I  said  impatiently,  glancing  up  from  my  paper. 
"  Does  he  look  like  a  man  who  needs  me  ? " 

"  I  can  answer  your  question,"  said  Hester ; 
"for. I  happened  to  be  in  the  study,  hunting  a 
book,  when  he  came  in.  I  am  sure  he  don't 
warft  to  be  buried:  he  might  possibly  have  a 
wedding  in  contemplation,  but  I  shouldn't  care 
to  be  the  bride.  Candidly,  though,  he  is  excel- 
lently well  dressed,  if  that  will  help  you." 

"  Tell  him  I'll  be  in,"  I  said ;  and  Jenkins 
disappeared. 

"  Seems  to  me,"  I  growled,  as  I  drew  off  my 


IO4  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

dressing-gown,  "  that  fellow's  ears  grow  longer 
and  larger  every  day." 

"  They  couldn't  very  well  grow  smaller,"  said 
Hester.  "I  have  often  wished,  myself,  they 
could  be  cut  down." 

The  notion  tickled  me,  and  I  went  smilingly 
into  the  study  to  meet  an  utter  stranger. 

"Rev.  Mr.  Clements,"  he  said  glibly  —  "de- 
lighted to  see  you,  I'm  sure.  Of  course  you 
don't  know  who  I  am.  I  should  have  given 
your  servant  my  card.  Pangrist,  my  name  is, — 
the  grandson  of  old  General  Pangrist,  son  of 
Doctor  Pangrist,  both  of  them  members  of  old 
St  J6hn's :  you'll  find  their  names  on  your 
book.  I  came,  sir,  for  the  sake  of  old  associa- 
tions. When  a  child,  sir,  from  that  to  a  boy  at 
college,  I  had  the  privilege  of  attending  the 
dear  old  church.  Circumstances  took  me  away 
to  the  West,  where  my  father  emigrated  when 
I  was  seventeen.  I  am  now  renewing  old  im- 
pressions, sir ;  and  I  say  again,  I  am  delighted 
to  meet  you." 

It  seemed  to  me  I  had  seen  the  name  of  Pan- 
grist,  as,  indeed,  I  had,  on  the  church-books,  only 
a  week  before.  The  man  was  so  hearty  in  his 
manner,  so  well,  nay,  elegantly  dressed,  that  he 
made  an  impression  for  good.  I  forgot  that  it 
was  blue  Monday,  and  was  glad  to  meet  an 
agreeable  and  intelligent  companion.  Every 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  IO5 

thing  about  him  suggested  refinement  and  cul- 
ture. The  more  I  talked  with  him,  the  better 
pleased  I  was.  We  discussed  several  questions 
on  debatable  matters,  and  he  seemed  at  once 
fearless  and  honest  in  all  his  opinions,  and 
sound  in  church-views.  He  spoke  of  several 
persons  I  knew,  and  seemed  to  have  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  the  various  rectors. 

"  I  would  like,"  said  he,  with  a  childlike  smile, 
"to  look  at  the  old  church  if  you  do  not  object. 
I  really  feel  as  if  it  would  renew  my  youth  to 
see  the  dear  old  pew  where,  with  my  sainted 
mother,  I  sat  sabbath  after  sabbath,  not  exactly 
a  willing  listener,  but  happy  wherever  she  was. 
Ah !  she  has  long  been  in  the  church  above. 
Have  I  your  permission,  sir  ? " 

"Indeed,"  I  responded  with  alacrity,  "I  shall 
be  most  happy  to  accompany  you  ; "  and  in  an- 
other moment  we  stood  in  the  chancel. 

"Ah!  the  same  dear  old  place!  no  improve- 
ments," he  said,  as  he  stood  there  holding  his 
hat  in  one  hand,  and  gently  smoothing  his  long 
black  mustache  with  the  other. 

I  ventured  to  say  that  the  chancel  had  a  new 
window. 

"  Ah  !  pardon  me.  I  didn't  observe  that,  but 
I  do  now.  Very  fine  in  its  coloring  too ;  rich, 
very  rich,  and  the  design  remarkably  beauti- 
ful." 


IO6  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  Yes :  it  is  a  memorial  window,  given  by  the 
widow  of  old  Colonel  Winslow." 

"Ah,  yes!  I  remember  him — the  venerable 
old  man  !  Did  you  ever  meet  with  him  ? " 

"  It  was  before  my  time,"  I  made  reply,  "  but 
I  know  his  widow  :  she  is  very  old." 

"  Yes  :  I  knew  her  also.  He  was  a  remark- 
ably fine  specimen  of  the  old  aristocracy.  And 
he  was  a  gentleman,  sir,  an  old-time  gentle- 
man, —  hair  white  as  the  driven  snow,  urbane, 
courtly.  We  don't  see  many  of  those  fine  old 
gentlemen  in  these  days,  when  so  many  devices 
are  resorted  to  in  vain  attempts  to  restore  what 
never  returns,  one's  lost  youth." 

We  walked  slowly  up  the  aisle. 

"  How  every  thing  comes  back  to  me  ! "  said 
my  companion  with  a  sigh.  "  It  is  strange  how, 
in  such  a  place  as  this,  the  yearnings  of  the 
soul  master  one.  The  truths  which  are  com- 
mon to  belief  seem  so  much  more  sacred !  Ah, 
sir !  the  teachings  by  a  mother's  knee  are  never 
forgotten." 

"  Never ! "  I  responded  fervently,  feeling 
more  and  more  sympathy  with  my  new  friend. 

"  Yes,  sir :  we  must  not  be  exclusive  and  self- 
ish in  matters  of  faith,  and  that  is  why  I  rest 
implicitly  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  —  the 
dear  old  mother !  Her  mission  is  to  regenerate 
mankind  :  I  feel  it,  sir.  The  time  cannot  be 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  IO/ 

far  off  when  the  whole  pagan  world  will  come 
under  her  influence,  and  we  shall  all  be  the 
sheep  of  her  fold. 

"  Here  is  where  I  sat  beside  my  sainted  moth- 
er," he  said,  stopping  short  at  a  handsomely  dec- 
orated pew,  about  midway  of  the  aisle.  "  Over 
there  the  Paisleys  sat :  I  wonder  if  any  of  the 
family  are  living.  Just  in  front  of  us  Dr.  George 
Littlefield  and  his  family,  —  five  pretty  girls, 
sir ; "  and  he  turned  to  me  smiling  roguishly. 
"  I  leave  you  to  decide,  sir,  whether  a  young 
fellow  of  sixteen  can  pay  over-much  attention 
to  a  sermon  in  view  of  five  pretty  girls,  any  one 
of  them  bewitching  enough  to  turn  the  brain 
of  an  anchorite,  let  alone  a  poor  boy  who  wor- 
shipped beauty. 

"  How  it  all  comes  back  to  me !  the  Penns, 
the  Coles,  the  Mackeys,  the  Jedsons,  the  Schol- 
leys,  the  Pinkertons  —  ah  !  I  knew  them  all,  sir. 
Excuse  me,  sir ; "  and  he  took  out  a  fine  white 
handkerchief,  and  pressed  it  to  his  eyes.  I  de- 
clare, the  effect  was  very  fine  —  there  in  the 
mellow  light  of  the  old  church.  I  felt  like  shed- 
ding a  tear  or  two  myself. 

Then  he  examined  the  various  hymn-books, 
turned  to  the  initial  pages,  and  read  the  names. 

"  Alas  !  many  of  them  new  to  me,  sir ;  though 
I  remember  the  Eddys  and  the  Oldfields. 
George  Oldfield  was  a  very  elegant  man  :  it  was 


IO8  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

once  thought  he  would  be  the  President  of  the 
United  States.  The  Eddys  drove  up  in  their 
carriage  and  pair :  it  was  said  his  horses  cost 
him  a  round  five  thousand.  He  had  his  own 
sailing-vessel,  too,  and  usually  spent  his  sum- 
mers on  board.  I  don't  know  of  a  family  with 
more  leisure  and  money  at  their  command.  I 
wonder,"  he  mused  thoughtfully,  "  if  his  descend- 
ants have  gone  through  the  fortune,  or  are  they 
rich  now." 

"  I  believe  the  Eddys  are  rich,"  I  said  ;  "  but 
I  think  circumstances  will  warrant  me  in  say- 
ing that  they  use  their  privileges  very  badly. 
In  other  words,  this  Eddy  and  his  wife  are  ex- 
tremely niggardly,  and,  when  they  do  come  to 
church,  wear  neither  decent  nor  comfortable 
clothing.  They  have  only  one  daughter,  who 
by  all  accounts  is  both  crippled  and  silly ;  and 
a  boy  who  is  deformed." 

"  Dear  me !  what  degeneration !  It  often 
happens  so,"  he  said  with  a  sigh.  "The  fine 
brain  rarely  transmits  its  superior  attributes  to 
its  successor ;  the  godly  grandfather  looks  with 
sorrow  on  his  unprincipled  grandson  :  we  can- 
not account  for  it,  the  wisest  of  us.  Dear  me  ! 
I  never  noticed  till  this  moment — you  have  a 
modern  church-organ !  The  one  I  remember 
was  a  nondescript  thing,  with  mock  brasses, 
and  a  most  unearthly  wheeze ;  while  the  boy 
invariably  went  to  sleep  over  the  bellows." 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


His  description  made  me  laugh,  it  was  so 
true  to  the  life  :  I  remembered  the  old  organ. 
The  new  one  was  put  in  the  second  Sunday  of 
my  ministration. 

"  It  is  a  very  fine  organ,  and  I  am  proud  of 
.  it,"  I  said. 

He  turned  to  me. 

"  Perhaps  you  play,"  he  said. 

"  I  play  after  my  fashion,"  was  my  reply. 

"The  distinctive  feature  of  music  lies  in  the 
feeling  we  have  as  performer  or  as  hearer.  I 
am  sure  you  are  fond  of  music  :  permit  me  to 
be  a  listener,  if  for  only  a  few  minutes." 

My  vanity  responded.  I  soon  had  the  instru- 
ment unlocked,  and  the  bellows  in  full  play. 

"  If  you  will  pardon  me,"  said  my  new  friend, 
"  I  will  go  to  the  front  of  the  chancel.  There, 
as  in  viewing  masses  of  positive  color,  you  had 
best  look  from  a  given  point  ;  so,  in  music,  I 
am  more  impressed  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
performer." 

"  Certainly,"  I  said,  flattered  by  his  deferen- 
tial manner,  and  some  strong  words  of  praise 
he  added. 

He  went  down  towards  the  chancel,  and  I 
poured  my  soul  into  the  music.  I  have  the  gift 
of  improvisation,  my  friends  are  pleased  to  say, 
in  a  remarkable  degree  ;  and  the  utter  silence 
of  my  hearer  delighted  me.  After  the  lapse  of 


I  IO  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

a  considerable  time,  I  finished,  and  turned 
round.  There  stood  my  visitor  like  one  en- 
tranced, in  front  of  the  chancel,  his  face  alight 
with  pleasure. 

"  Don't,  don't  stop  !  "  he  said,  with  an  impres- 
sive movement  of  his  hand  :  "  it  is  heavenly." 

But  I  had  spent  my  enthusiasm,  and  walked 
towards  him.  We  talked  a  little  further  on  un- 
important subjects,  and  then  he  rose  to  go. 

"  You  will  stay  to  dinner,"  I  said.  "  I  am 
sure  Mrs.  Clements  will  second  my  invita- 
tion." 

"  Thanks,  thanks,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  I  believe 
I  have  two  other  engagements,  which  call  for 
all  my  spare  time  to-day.  I  have  absolutely 
lengthened  a  call,  that  should  have  occupied 
minutes  only,  to  nearly  an  hour.  Pray  forgive 
me,  and  allow  me  to  express  my  sincere  pleas- 
ure that  the  old  church  has  so  popular  a  rec- 
tor. Oh !  by  the  way,  I  am  recently,  as  I  told 
you  before,  from  one  of  the  beautiful  isles  of 
the  sea;  and  during  my  travels  I  gathered  a 
large  collection  of  macaws,  birds  of  splendid 
plumage,  that  can  be  trained  to  speech.  The 
birds  are  very  young ;  but  all  the  better,  you 
know,  for  that.  Allow  me  to  present  your  lady 
one,  with  my  best  wishes." 

"  Indeed,"  I  said,  "  I  cannot  permit  that.  I 
know  the  birds  are  valuable,  and  you  really  must 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  Ill 

let  me  pay  for  it.  I  am  sure  it  must  have  cost 
you  to  transport  them  to  this  country." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  a  trifle :  but  I  could  not  think  of 
taking  any  thing.  It  is  a  present  out  of  respect 
for  the  dear  old  church.  You  are  aware,  I  sup- 
pose, that  they  need  a  particular  kind  of  cage. 
These  are  to  be  bought  at  Restwick's,  New 
York;  and,  if  you  will  write  them,  you  can 
easily  get  one  sent  you.  By  the  way,  I  will  call 
there.  Restwick  is  a  friend  of  mine ; '  I  have 
bought  several  cages  of  him :  and  you  may 
rely  upon  it,  I  will,  by  giving  my  personal 
attention,  secure  you  a  perfect  one  in  every 
respect." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  oblige  me  by  paying  for 
it,  and  sending  it  to  my  address,  yourself,"  I 
said. 

"  Well  —  if  you  feel  particular.  I  suppose  it 
would  come  here  much  sooner.  The  price  is 
only  ten  dollars,  express-charges  included.  I 
often  take  little  commissions  from  my  friends." 

I  found  a  ten-dollar  bill  in  my  pocket,  and 
put  it  into  his  hands.  He  gave  me  a  receipt, 
and  then  took  his  leave.  I  felt  as  if  parting 
from  a  valued  friend. 

"  My  dear  Hal !  "  Hester  greeted  me  :  "  why 
didn't  you  stay  all  day  ? " 

I  gave  her  certain  reasons,  carefully  conceal- 
ing the  matter  of  the  gift,  and  regretting  that 


112  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

my  new-found  acquaintance  would  not  stay  to 
dinner. 

"  I'm  so  glad ! "  she  said,  drawing  a  long 
breath.  I  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Then,  you  didn't  like  him ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"There  was  a  way  he  glanced  round  the 
study  that  I  didn't  like,"  said  Hester:  "it  was 
mousey,  and  his  eye  was  bad." 

I  sat  back  and  laughed,  but  not  without  some 
inward  misgivings.  However,  I  finished  my 
dinner,  enjoyed  a  quiet  afternoon,  and  next 
morning  sent  Jenkins,  according  to  agreement, 
to  the  pier  of  a  certain  steamship  company,  for 
the  bird,  which  was  to  be  delivered  in  a  small 
wooden  cage. 

Ten  o'clock  came,  and  so  did  Jenkins,  grin- 
ning from  ear  to  ear. 

"  What  makes  you  look  so  pleased  ? "  said 
Hester,  as  the  man  presented  himself. 

I  winked  at  Jenkins,  I  hemmed,  I  scuffled  my 
foot ;  but  the  impenetrable  rascal  stood  there, 
still  grinning. 

"Why,  there  war  no  less  than  twenty  gentle- 
men's servants,  and  lots  of  ministers,  on  the 
wharf,  all  waiting  for  birds." 

"  For  birds  !  "  said  Hester  wonderingly. 

"  Let  me  explain,  wife,"  I  began. 

"  And,  begorra,  they'll  have  to  stand  till  the 
ind  of  the  worrld,"  Jenkins  went  on,  "  before 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  113 

they'll  git  'em  !  It's  a  swindle,  sir ;  and  they'd 
all  paid  for  cages  too  :  "  and  then,  unrestrained 
by  the  fear  of  ministerial  dignity,  he  burst  into 
a  loud  guffaw. 

"  For  pity's  sake,  Hal,  what  does  it  all 
mean  ? "  asked  Hester,  as  he  slunk  out  of  the 
door ;  and  then  I  had  to  tell  her. 

"  If  you  had  only  spoken  to  me  !  "  she  said, 
and  then  laughed  till  her  eyes  were  dropping 
tears. 

"  It  is  too  good !  I  shall  have  to  tell  papa. 
Why  couldn't  you  see  through  him  ?  It  seems 
to  me  I  could.  I  told  you  he  was  mousey." 
Suddenly  she  paused  with  a  blank  face. 

"I  left  my  watch  and  chain  there,"  she 
gasped,  "on  your  study-table  —  the  one  papa 
gave  me,  with  brother  Willy's  hair  braided  in 
the  back.  O  Hal !  I  have  an  awful  presenti- 
ment. I  took  it  off  to  fix  a  bit  of  the  chain, 
and  couldn't  manage  it.  Then  I  laid  it  on  that 
little  ledge  of  your  study-table  till  I  could  find 
my  book  :  then  he  came  in,  and  —  yes,  I  guess 
he  frightened  me  into  forgetting  my  watch.  I 
haven't  thought  of  it  since." 

With  quaking  hearts  we  went  into  the  study. 

The  watch  was  gone !  So  was  my  pearl- 
handled  pen-knife,  a  gold  toothpick,  a  pair  of 
gloves,  and  a  very  beautiful  gold  and  enamelled 
paper-cutter.  By  this  time  I  was  heart-sick. 


114  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

"  He  must  have  taken  these  things  when  I 
was  playing  —  the  polished  hypocrite!  "  I  said. 
"  If  I  could  get  my  hands  upon  him,  I'd  rope's- 
end  him  in  spite  of  my  cloth  !  " 

I  made  a  round  of  visits  to  my  brother  clergy- 
men. They  had  all  been  victimized.  He  had 
played  the  same  role  in  each  instance,  and  with 
such  success,  that  he  must  have  been  the  richer 
by  a  hundred  dollars  or  more. 

By  setting  interested  friends  to  work,  I  ob- 
tained possession  of  the  watch,  which  had  been 
pawned ;  but  money,  or  birds,  or  man,  I  never 
saw  again. 


TELL   YOUR    WIFE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  Some  stubborn  natures  are  willing  that  wrong  should  be  spoken 
of  them  rather  than  make  all  right,  even  by  a  sign." 

"  T  WISH  you  would  call  round  and  see  my 
1  wife.  Tilly  has  taken  a  fancy  that  she  is 
sick." 

Tom  Tracy  said  this  in  his  careless  fashion, 
as  he  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  chancel  one 
Sunday  afternoon. 

"  Tilly  is  a  little  notional  now  and  then,"  he 
added,  playing  with  his  watch-chain :  "  women 
all  are,  I  suppose,  particularly  when  they  have 
no  hobbies.  I  wish  my  wife  would  take  to  dis- 
trict-visiting, or  even  a  Sunday-school  class. 
As  it  is,  she  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  keep  the 
house  nice,  and  help  my  little  girl  in  her  sewing. 
When  she  goes,  I  don't  know  what  will  become 
of  Tilly." 

"  Wives  are  a  good  deal  what  we  make  them," 
I  said.  "When  the  children  go,  the  husbands 
must  redouble  their  attentions." 

I  looked  at  him  as  he  stood  there,  supremely 


Il6  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

handsome,  his  cold,  clear-cut  features,  over 
which  no  ripple  of  emotion  stirred,  reminding 
me  of  the  classic  statues  of  antiquity,  and  won- 
dered what  was  passing  under  that  fine,  passion- 
less exterior.  Surely  this  man,  with  not  one 
sensuous  feature,  could  be  neither  tempter  nor 
tempted  in  his  keen  encounter  with  life,  the 
strange  experiences  that  sometimes  surrounded 
him  by  reason  of  his  calling. 

"  Yes  :  but  "  —  then  he  placed  his  lips  to- 
gether, cast  a  penetrating  glance  at  me — "a 
man  can't  be  forever  at  home,"  he  added,  evi- 
dently changing  the  sentence  which  had  all  but 
escaped  him.  "  Shall  I  tell  Tilly  you  will  come 
round  ? "  he  queried,  his  voice  grown  a  little 
hard,  and  his  eyes  a  little  brighter. 

"Tell  her  she  may  expect  me  to-morrow." 

I  watched  him  moving  down  the  aisle :  his 
imposing  figure,  and  graceful  walk  and  bearing, 
would  have  arrested  my  attention  anywhere ; 
but  now  all  his  graces  seemed  heightened,  and 
his  manliness  was  doubly  attractive.  I  was 
studying  him. 

"  At  all  events,  the  choir  were  gone,"  I  said 
to  myself :  the  siren  had  not  enchained  him, 
for  that  night  at  least.  I  should  be  able  to 
make  the  promised  visit  with  a  lighter  heart. 

Jenkins  had  put  out  the  lights,  and  I  went 
into  the  study  to  finish  my  paper.  Presently 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  1 1/ 

the  door  opened,  and  Dolly  peeped  in.  How 
happy  she  looked !  Her  eyes  were  laughing 
with  joy  and  sweetness. 

"Come  in,"  I  said,  "you  and  Mr.  Ravaillac. 
Of  course  you  are  together." 

"  I  am  only  too  happy,"  said  the  Frenchman 
in  his  precise  English,  showing  himself,  and 
entering. 

"  Your  choir  staid  late,  didn't  it  ? "  queried 
Dolly. 

"  No  :  it  went  early,"  I  said. 

"But  we  just  met  Mr.  Tom  Tracy  and  Mrs. 
Stanley,"  said  Dolly.  "They  got  into  a  car  as 
we  got  out." 

"  Yes ;  and  I  had  a  linguistic  battle,"  said 
the  Frenchman,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"Truly  you  did,"  laughed  Dolly;  "but  the 
car  went  while  you  were  fighting  it.  Mr.  Tracy 
will  call  you  out  if  you  are  not  careful." 

"And  it  is  that  I  will  give  him' what  satisfac- 
tion he  asks." 

"  We  don't  fight  duels  in  our  country,"  I  said  : 
but  my  heart  felt  like  lead  in  my  bosom.  She 
—  that  woman  —  had  been  waiting  for  him  dur- 
ing all  the  time  of  my  conference  with  him. 

I  said  nothing  to  Hester  about  it,  but  looked 
forward  to  my  approaching  visit  with  dread. 

It  was  early  when  I  called  at  the  Tracys. 
The  neat  maid  had  just  laid  the  mat  on  the 


Il8  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

broad  marble  step,  and  she  held  the  door  for 
me  to  enter. 

"  How  beautiful  a  home  !  "  I  thought,  as  my 
feet  sank  in  the  rich,  thick  carpets,  and  I  looked 
about  on  the  walls,  perfect  in  their  wealth  of 
color,  in  brackets,  pictures,  vases. 

Presently  I  was  ushered  up-stairs.  Mrs.  Tra- 
cy's colorless  face  was  the  first  thing  that  met 
my  eyes.  She  was  sitting  up  in  a  great  velvet 
bed-chair,  and  there  was  something  like  the  pal- 
lor of  death  in  her  countenance.  I  could  not 
help  displaying  my  astonishment. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  holding  out 
her  hand  languidly,  "very  good  and  kind." 

"  I  did  not  think,  from  what  Mr.  Tracy  said, 
to  find  you  like  this,"  I  said  unguardedly. 

"Tom  doesn't  know."  Her  lips  quivered 
through  a  wavering  smile. 

"  Tom  should  know  !  "  I  said  impulsively,  and 
then  paused,  finding  myself  on  the  horns  of  a 
dilemma.  She  had  as  yet  confided  nothing  to 
me,  though  I  was  her  priest,  and  ready  enough 
to  be,  in  one  sense,  her  confessor.  I  never 
could  abide  confidences,  even  by  the  sick-bed  ; 
but  my  calling  made  it  often  incumbent  upon 
me  to  hear  the  secret  burdens  of  many  a  bleed- 
ing heart. 

"  O  sir  !  "  she  said,  "  I  beseech  you,  help  me 
if  you  can  ! " 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 


"  What  can  I  do  ?  "  I  asked  softly. 

"  Save  him  !  " 

"  You  mean  your  husband  ?  " 

"  Not  so  much  for  my  sake  as  for  his.  And 
yet,  my  heart  is  breaking.  Sometimes  I  feel 
the  very  strings  snap." 

She  gave  living  action  to  the  speech  by  a 
most  expressive  gesture. 

"  If  I  only  knew  how  !  "  I  said  helplessly. 
"Has  he  told  you  nothing?"  It  would  have 
been  affectation  to  ask  her  what  she  meant. 

"That  is  what  is  killing  me.  He  tells  me 
nothing.  He  only  laughs,  or  answers  with  a 
jest.  I  implore,  I  pray,  I  weep.  He  laughs. 
Cruel,  cruel  !  " 

"Are  you  angry  with  him  when  you  talk?"  I 
asked,  hap-hazard. 

"  Angry  !  One  can't  be  angry  with  Tom. 
Tom  is  so  lovable  !  " 

She  looked  afar  off,  as  if  she  saw  the  lost  idol 
of  her.  youth. 

"  O  sir  !  I  wish  I  could  be  angry.  And,  if  I 
could,  he  would  still  smile."  Then  in  a  lower 
voice,  and  with  an  expression  of  agony,  — 

"  It  can't  be  that  he  loves  her  !  " 

Then,  in  still  more  solemn  tones,  — 

"  What  have  I  ever  done  that  he  should  for- 
get me  ?  Nothing,  but  worship  him.  God 
knows,  that,  if  it  is  really  for  his  happiness,  I 
wish  to  die." 


I2O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

"  It  would  not  be  for  his  happiness,"  I  said 
sternly;  "but  it  might  be  for  his  punishment." 

"  No,  no !  I  would  have  him  happy,"  she 
exclaimed,  bursting  into  tears.  "  Let  me  bear 
all  the  sorrow.  I  wonder,  if  he  laid  me  in  the 
grave,  would  the  old  love  come  back." 

Then,  after  a  long  pause,  — 

"  She  will  be  the  murderer !  Oh,  she  must 
have  used  many  arts  to  entrap  him !  I  would 
have  trusted  him  all  my  life.  He  might  have 
left  me  for  years,  and  I  would  have  trusted  him. 
What  do  you  think  is  the  magic  she  uses  ?  I 
don't  know  but  I  would  even  stoop  to  borrow 
of  her."  Then,  with  a  terrible  flashing  of  the 
eyes,  "  I  do  not  blame  him  —  I  blame  her.  At 
her  door  my  death  will  lie ! " 

"  Come,  let  us  reason,"  I  said,  for  the  scene 
was  becoming  too  painful.  "You  must  not 
give  up :  dying  would  not  mend  the  matter. 
Can  you  not  think  of  something  —  some  magic 
of  human  love  ?  When  he  comes  home,  you  say 
you  do  not  reproach  him  ? " 

"  Never  !  I  beg,  I  entreat,  I  pray  :  he  is  al- 
ways the  same.  He  will  tell  me  nothing, 
though  I  should  be  dying  at  his  feet." 

"  Perhaps  if  you  pretended  not  to  notice  him, 
went  with  him  to  the  rehearsals,  insisted  on  your 
right  as  a  wife  to  his  husbandly  attentions  "  — 

She  looked  at  me  intently. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  121 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  marble  ? "  she  said. 
"Why,  the  first  time  I  saw  that  woman  look  at 
him  with  her  wicked  eyes,  I  could  have  stran- 
gled her !  I  saw  him  once  place  her  shawl  on 
her  shoulders  —  yet  I  have  seen  him  do  that 
hundreds  of  times,  to  the  ladies  of  our  house- 
hold, or  acquaintances,  or  even  strangers.  What 
did  I  care  ?  I  loved  him  better  for  it ;  but  there 
came  a  silent,  swift,  invisible  dagger,  that  smote 
me  through  and  through 'at  sight  of  that  sim- 
ple attention  —  to  her!  It  took  the  strength 
out  of  my  heart,  and  it  has  never  come  back. 
Don't  ask  me  to  go  near  her  —  to  act  the  spy 
on  him.  Trouble  would  come  of  it  —  sore,  bitter 
trouble." 

"  What,  then,  do  you  propose  to  do  ? "  I 
asked. 

She  turned  her  head  wearily  away. 

"  I  must  die,  I  suppose,"  she  said,  in  a  pitiful 
voice ;  and  I  could  see  how  her  sorrow  had 
sapped. the  energy  of  her  life,  and  it  might  be 
that  death  was  the  only  way  out. 

"  It  may  not  be  as  bad  as  you  imagine,"  I 
said. 

"I  imagine  nothing  bad  —  of  him!  That 
woman  is  pitiless  :  she  would  rob  me  of  my  hus- 
band. She  holds  her  finger  on  my  heart,  and 
she  knows  her  power." 

"  Shall  I  speak  to  Mr.  Tracy  ?  " 


122  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

"  Oh,  if  you  only  would  !  say  something  —  but 
oh !  say  it  so  kindly !  His  temperament  is  a 
strange  one.  If  he  would  only  say,  *  Tilly,  I 
don't  care  for  her,'  —  just  those  few  words, — 
I'd  never  think  of  it  again.  But  he  won't.  He 
just  laughs,  and  treats  me  like  a  child.  I  feel 
myself  belittled,  undervalued.  He  believes  me 
silly,  notional,  jealous.  O  Heavens!  and  I  am 
a  woman,  and  his  wife  !  It  is  very  hard  ! " 

"Then,  you  will  leave  the  matter  in  my 
hands  ? " 

She  looked  up,  an  imploring  expression  in  her 
pale,  beautiful  face. 

"  You  will  be  gentle  with  him  ?  You  will  try 
to  win  his  confidence  ?  If  he  says  one  word  to 
you  that  will  exonerate  him  —  but  I  know  I  can 
trust  you.  I  will  leave  the  matter  in  your 
hands." 

I  left  Mrs.  Tracy  with  added  respect  for  her- 
self, and  a  cold  contempt  of  her  husband. 
Many  a  new-filled  grave  have  I  come  from  with 
a  lighter  heart.  In  my  short  course  of  minis- 
tration, I  had  never  seen  such  agony  as  this. 
It  depressed  me,  followed,  enveloped  me. 

Hester  rallied  me  upon  my  nervousness,  and 
Dolly's  beautiful  eyes  followed  me  with  loving 
sympathy.  If  I  had  told  Hester,  it  would  have 
lessened  the  burden  ;  but  I  was  unconsciously 
following  Tom  Tracy's  example*  Why  should 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  123 

I  trouble  her?  It  was  not  in  her  power,  I 
thought,  to  give  me  aid  in  these  vexatious  mat- 
ters. But  it  was.  I  was  simply  draining  my  own 
strength,  and  I  do  not  think  that  even  prayer 
gave  me  the  help  her  counsel  might  have  done. 

The  following  day  Tom  Tracy  came  to  my 
study  to  consult  me  about  the  music  for  the 
coming  Christmas. 

I  went  over  the  list  he  held,  revised  it,  and 
then  with  a  sinking  heart  fortified  myself  as 
best  I  could  for  the  coming  struggle.  There 
was  no  need. 

The  man  was  polished  from  his  hat  to  his 
boot-toes,  keen  as  his  own  practice,  and  as  slip- 
pery as  if  he  had  been  born  a  native  of  the 
jungles,  with  fangs  and  rattles. 

"  By  the  way,  I  called  on  Mrs.  Tracy  yester- 
day, Tom,"  I  said. 

"  Hm  !  I  thought  her  looking  better  when  I 
went  home.  Thanks  !  " 

"  But,  Tom  — you  are  not  aware,  perhaps  —  I 
consider  her  a  very  sick  woman." 

"  She  may  be,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  the  doctor 
doesn't  think  so." 

"  Doctors  don't  always  understand  the  state 
of  a  patient.  For  instance  "  — 

He  looked  at  me,  calm  as  a  statue. 

"  It  is  not  always  the  body  that  is  suffering. 
There  are  ills  beyond  that." 


124  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  I  have  heard  so,"  he  said  simply.  "  Some- 
thing that  brings  on  hysterics  sometimes." 

I  clinched  my  teeth.  The  fellow  either  could 
not  or  would  not  understand.  What  should  I 
say  to  enlighten  him  ? 

"  Your  wife  sent  for  me,  to  tell  me,  as  her 
pastor,  a  matter  that  weighs  heavily  on  her 
mind.  Do  you  happen  to  know  of  any  trouble 
that  interferes  with  her  happiness  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  he  replied  stolidly. 

"You  will  pardon  me  if  I  speak  plainly,"  I 
said,  feeling  the  gravity  of  the  situation  more 
and  more  keenly,  though  his  utter  indifference 
goaded  me  on. 

"  I  should  be  most  happy  if  you  are  in  my 
wife's  confidence,  better  acquainted  with  her 
trials  than  I  am,  to  listen  to  the  plainest  kind 
of  speech." 

His  undisguised  sarcasm  stung  me.  I  lost 
my  temper. 

"Your  attentions  to  Mrs.  Stanley  are  very 
marked,"  I  said,  without  more  circumlocution. 
"  Others  have  seen  it  besides  myself.  Two  or 
three  of  the  vestry  have  noticed  it." 

"  What  do  they  say  ? "  he  asked,  after  a  brief 
pause,  during  which  his  face  was  as  immobile 
as  ever. 

"  I  decline  to  state,  just  now,"  was  my  an- 
swer. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  125 

"What  do  you  say?"  he  asked,  without  the 
alteration  of  a  feature. 

"That  I  am  satisfied  you  are  doing  yourself 
a  great  wrong." 

"  What  does  my  wife  say  ? "  he  then  queried, 
his  face  flushing  slightly. 

I  thought  of  all  her  agony,  all  her  heroism, 
all  her  tenderness  for  him,  as  she  had  pleaded 
with  me  not  to  be  harsh. 

"Your  wife  says  she  cannot  lose  your  love 
and  live." 

He  frowned  slightly. 

"  What  in  the  world  makes  women  suck 
fools  ?  "  He  spoke  musingly  and  slowly,  as  if 
to  himself.  "  Tilly  knows  she  irritates  me  if 
she  doubts  me,  and  yet  she  will  persist  in  this 
causeless  jealousy." 

"  Causeless  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Of  a  man  who  looks  at  almost  every  thing 
from  a  judicial  stand-point,  yes.  I  know  what 
I  am  about.  Tilly  must  not  meddle  with  my 
business,  neither,  with  all  due  deference  to  your 
ministerial  duties,  must  you.  If  my  wife  eases 
her  mind  by  confession,  or  whatever  she  may 
call  it,  to  her  pastor,  well  and  good  :  I  don't 
object.  Neither  do  I  choose  to  give  my  reasons 
for  every  trifling  attention  I  show  to  another 
lady.  Must  I  bother  her  with  all  my  law-cases  ? 
I  have  several  lady  clients.  Tilly  must  learn  to 


126  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

trust  me,  to  be  more  of  a  woman,  and  less  an 
unreasoning  child.  I  don't  choose  to  carry  shop 
home  to  my  wife ;  and  she  ought  to  know  it, 
and  thank  me  for  it." 

"  But  why  not  enlighten  her  in  this  particu- 
lar case  if  it  is  all  business  ?  It  would  not  de- 
rogate from  your  dignity  as  a  man,  and  would 
certainly  be  more  to  your  credit  as  a  husband." 

He  answered  me  with  a  home-thrust.  With 
his  fine  gray  eyes  searchingly  fixed  on  mine,  he 
asked,  — 

"  Do  you  tell  your  wife  every  thing?  " 

For  an  instant  I  felt  weak  and  helpless.  The 
sword  had  struck  home.  Instantly,  upon  the 
canvas  of  my  memory,  started  forth  the  face  of 
Miriam,  reproachful,  affectionate,  passionate, 
sad,  by  turns.  There  was  certainly  no  distinct 
parallel  between  the  two  cases,  yet  for  a  mo- 
ment I  felt  the  sense  of  guilt  for  an  offence  that 
was  not  venial,  for  I  had  never  wavered  in  the 
truest  allegiance  to  Hester;  while  this  man 
could  smile  serenely,  though  he  must  be  con- 
scious that  the  weal  or  woe  of  a  human  soul 
hung  upon  his  decision. 

But  there  was  the  question  he  had  thrust  in 
my  face ;  and  it  recalled  my  own  arrogant  as- 
sumptions of  manly  superiority,  my  often  ex- 
pressed convictions,  that,  as  head  of  the  wife, 
the  husband  has  no  call  to  confer  in  any  matter, 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 


save  what  may  seem  good  in  his  judgment, 
with  his  second  and  often  better  self. 

"  Perhaps  not  as  much  as  I  should,"  was  my 
reply  ;  "  but  if  I  saw  her  health  departing,  her 
body  losing  its  vigor,  her  heart  breaking,  for 
lack  of  the  confidence  she  may  feel  to  be  her 
right,  I  think  I  should,  even  if  it  amounted  to 
the  confession  of  sin." 

"  You  speak  like  a  parson,"  he  said  half  an- 
grily. "  And  you  do  not  know  the  facts  of  the 
case  :  they  are  not  to  be  whispered,  only  into  the 
ears  of  one's  lawyer.  Professional  men  must 
have  secrets,  even  from  their  wives  :  some  of 
these  they  must  carry,  even  to  the  grave.  It  is 
an  unhappy  chance,  perhaps,  that  one's  clients 
are  beautiful  and  young,  as  well  as  unfortunate. 
It  is  also  unfortunate  that  self-constituted  spies 
transmute  what  they  see  and  hear  into  their  own 
base  metal,  and  then  circulate  the  coin.  I 
am  quite  aware  that  I  have  been  followed.  I  am 
also  aware  that  some  false  friend  has  written  to 
Tilly,  making  the  case  out  to  suit  her  own  de- 
praved convictions.  And  if  my  wife  chooses  to 
believe  such  trash  —  why,  she  must  e'en  do  it. 
I  shall  not  try  to  enlighten  her.  I  will  not 
stoop  so  low  !  " 

His  lip  quivered  with  suppressed  passion, 
and  his  brow  lowered.  For  the  first  time  I 
read  in  his  face  the  power  to  do  evil  and  the 
will  to  conceal  it. 


128  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  Then,  you  will  not  by  a  word  put  an  end  to 
your  wife's  distress,  even  anguish?" 

"  I  swear  I  will  not,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
suppressed  fury  :  then,  evidently  feeling  that  he 
had  gone  too  far,  his  face  dazzled  with  a  smile 
that  was  all  sweetness  and  sunshine. 

"  I  am  very  impetuous  sometimes,"  he  said : 
"you  must  pardon  me,  and  excuse  my  abrupt 
departure.  I  have  an  engagement  —  with  Mrs. 
Stanley  —  at  twelve." 

He  bowed,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  walked 
down  the  aisle  towards  the  door,  firing  this  au- 
dacious shot  at  me  as  an  earnest  of  his  unalter- 
able will. 

"Perhaps  it  is  all  right,"  I  said  to  myself. 
"These  conferences  behind  the  choir-curtain 
are  safer  than  at  the  office  or  at  her  home. 
She  may  be  applying  for  a  divorce,  and  have 
reasons  for  wishing  it  to  be  kept  secret.  After 
all,  his  wife's  jealous  fears  may  be  without 
foundation,  and  his  anger  may  be  that  of  a  just 
man  wrongly  accused.  I  wonder  what  Hester 
will  think  of  it." 

For  the  first  time  almost  in  my  life,  I  felt  my 
helplessness,  and  longed  for  my  wife's  co-opera- 
tion, — the  expression  of  her  judgment,  instinct, 
whatever  subtle  force  it  is  that  makes  woman 
judge  and  jury  in  special  cases.  I  had  but  poor 
consolation  to  carry  to  Tom's  wife ;  and  I  was 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 


half  angry  that  it  devolved  upon  me  to  see  her, 
and  state  the  success,  or  non-success  rather,  of 
my  interview. 

When  I  went  into  the  house,  Hester  and 
Dolly  were  talking  something  over  very  softly. 

Hester's  aunt,  Miriam's  mother,  was  dead. 


I3O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

"  Flowers  for  the  bridal,  » 

Flowers  for  the  dead.  " 

THE  news  had  just  come. 
Hester  was  very  quiet,  but  in    this  case 
grief    was    impossible.     She    had    never   quite 
loved  her  aunt  Hope,  though  very  fond  of  her 
cousin  Miriam. 

"  We  have  been  wondering  what  poor  Miriam 
will  do,"  said  Hester  softly.  "And,  if  I  were 
you,  I  would  go  there  right  away.  I  am  sure 
she  would  not  want  any  one  else  but  you.  Tell 
her  I  will  come  again  this  evening.  I  have  just 
been  there,  and  mamma  and  papa  are  doing 
every  thing  that  needs  to  be  done." 

"But  —  will  it  not  be  better  forme  to  wait 
till  you  go  ? "  I  said. 

"  Why,  of  course  one's  clergyman  is  expected 
to  call  immediately  in  such  trouble  as  this," 
said  Hester,  looking  up,  some  surprise  in  her 
glance.  "  I'm  afraid  aunt  Hope  was  so  unfor- 
tunate in  her  temperament,  that  you  visit  her 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  13! 

sins  on  poor  cousin  Miriam,  and  that  she  is 
not  a  favorite  of  yours.  But  she  is  very  differ- 
ent from  her  mother." 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  go,"  I  said — "if  she 
will  see  me." 

"  I  think  one  always  wants  to  see  one's  cler- 
gyman," said  Hester. 

I  took  my  hat  and  cane  mechanically,  and 
went  forth  on  this  very  unpleasant  duty.  The 
exercise  would  do  me  good,  even  if  Miriam  de- 
clined to  see  me.  On  the  road  I  tried  to  forget 
the  unpleasant  character  of  my  last  interview 
with  her,  and  stopped  for  the  purpose  of  exam- 
ining a  bit  of  stone  jutting  out  from  the  rest. 
In  bending  over  to  see  more  plainly,  my  eye 
followed  an  object  that  glittered,  half  buried  in 
the  ground.  Another  moment,  and  I  held  in 
my  hand  a  valuable  solitaire  diamond  earring  of 
antique  shape  and  pattern.  The  gold  was  dim 
and  stained,  but  the  stone  was  remarkably  clear 
and  brilliant.  Wondering  much  at  this  strange 
incident,  I  placed  the  ornament  in  my  pocket, 
and  proceeded  on  to  the  cottage  of  the  Hopes. 

Alas !  the  shroud  seems  to  envelop  all  mate- 
rial things  when  death  comes  into  any  house- 
hold. The  quietude,  the  crape  on  the  door,  the 
closed  blinds,  the  general  mournful  aspect  of 
the  surroundings,  extending  even  to  the  trees 
and  the  flowers  in  the  garden,  seem  a  commen- 


132  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

tary  on  the  fleeting  value  of  all  that  lives.  I 
rang  the  bell.  A  colored  servant  came  to  the 
door,  and  ushered  me  into  the  parlor.  Flowers 
in  baskets  and  on  stands  saluted  my  senses. 
Will  it  be  believed  ?  I  had  already  become  in- 
different to  the  delicious  fragrance  of  every 
flower  that  breathes  the  air  of  the  charnel- 
house.  Seeing  them  heaped  up  on  coffins, 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  dead,  wreathed  about 
their  cold  faces,  lying  on  their  pulseless  breasts, 
flung  into  their  gloomy  graves,  clustered  over 
the  green-sward,  has  sickened  me.  Thus,  when 
I  enter  the  bright  homes  of  my  parishioners, 
the  perfume  of  the  heavily  scented  roses,  so 
grateful  to  the  senses  of  most  people,  is  a  dis- 
turbing element  to  me ;  and  the  last  funeral 
rises  up  to  haunt  me  with  all  its  dread,  disturb- 
ing recollections. 

My  mother-in-law  sat  there,  sorting  the  flow- 
ers. She  looked  rather  cheerful,  though  at 
sight  of  me  she  drew  down  the  corners  of  her 
mouth. 

"I  was  thinking  of  you,"  she  said,  "and 
wondering  why  you  didn't  come.  Poor  sister 
Lydia  held  out  a  long  time  :  she  had  a  terrible 
will.  And  I'm  glad  the  flowers  came  in,  she 
was  so  fond  of  flowers !  Pity  you  couldn't  have 
been  with  her  at  the  last,  but  she  was  called  in 
the  night.  It  seemed  sudden,  too ;  and  we  none 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  133 

of  us  know,"  etc.  I  spare  the  reader  all  the 
moralizing  I  can.  I  hate  it  myself. 

"  How  does  Miriam  bear  it  ?  "  was  my  first 
question. 

"Very  bravely.  There  is  a  good  deal  of 
strength  in  Miriam's  character.  She  resisted 
as  long  as  she  could  keep  the  enemy  at  bay. 
When  all  was  over;  she  was  very  calm.  Miriam 
has  always  seemed  to  me  like  a  daughter :  in- 
deed, she  is  more  like  me  than  Hester  ever 
was." 

This  was  a  gratifying  piece  of  intelligence. 
I  had  been  slowly,  hardening  my  heart  against 
Miriam,  partly  perhaps  because  I  had  unwitt- 
ingly done  her  a  wrong,  partly  because  of  some 
glimpses  I  had  caught  of  her  character.  More 
in  love  than  ever  with  my  Hester,  I  was  glad 
Miriam  did  not  resemble  her. 

Presently  a  slow  step  sounded :  the  door 
opened,  and  there  stood  Miriam.  Evidently 
the  maid  had  not  told  her  of  my  coming ;  for 
she  started  and  drew  back  as  she  saw  me,  and 
the  color  rolled  in  a  wave  all  over  her  face. 
Otherwise  she  was  unchanged.  A  curious  ex- 
pression, like  an  electric  flash,  suffused  her 
countenance  as  she  drew  herself  up,  and  came 
quietly  forward. 

"  So  your  mother  has  left  us,"  I  said. 

"  Yes :  "   the  tears  welled  up   to   her  eyes ; 


134  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"but  I  ought  not  to  mourn,  she  was  such  a 
sufferer." 

"And  while  I  admire  her  resignation,"  said 
my  mother-in-law,  "  I  cannot  agree  with  Miriam 
in  her  decision  against  full  mourning." 

"  I  am  but  following  out  mamma's  own  sug- 
gestion," said  Miriam,  her  beautiful  dark  eyes 
still  suffused.  "  I  always  dress  in  black  ;  but 
crape  "  —  she  shuddered.  "  I  should  die  muffled 
up  in  crape." 

"  Your  decision  does  your  judgment  credit," 
I  said.  "  I  condemn  crape.  Let  our  mourning 
be  of  the  heart,  not  of  the  garments." 

"Fudge!"  ejaculated  Hester's  mother  con- 
temptuously. "  There  is  nothing  more  becom- 
ing or  fashionable.  I'd  swathe  her  in  it  if  I 
had  my  way,  particularly  with  her  style  of 
beauty.  And  it  looks  so  proper  at  a  church 
funeral." 

"  Mamma  will  be  buried  from  the  house,"  said 
Miriam  softly. 

"  Now,  Miriam,  you  do  provoke  me.  If  I 
had  thought  my  sister  was  to  have  a  common- 
place funeral,  like  any  poor  parishioner,  I  de- 
clare I  wouldn't  have  stirred  out  of  the  house." 

"But  I  must  follow  out  mamma's  last  wishes," 
said  Miriam  imploringly;  "and  that  was  one 
of  them." 

"  Well,  J  am  very  sorry ; "  and  she  grouped  the 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  135 

flowers  with  nervous  energy.  "Lydia  always 
was  full  of  whims,  even  at  her  best.  Why,  this 
room  won't  hold  fifty  people ;  and  our  friends 
are  legion.  If  it  had  been  a  large,  stylish  house, 
now,  the  effect  would  have  been  different.  She 
must  have  known  she  was  going  against  my 
wishes.  Besides,  it  looks  as  if  she  held  a  grudge 
against  the  rector." 

Miriam  turned  deadly  pale.  I  feared  she  was 
going  to  faint.  But  she  conquered  the  weak- 
ness, and  her  color  came  back. 

"Mamma's  ideas  of  things  changed  very 
much  during  her  sickness,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  I  hope  she  didn't  say  how  she  wanted  to  be 
laid  out,"  muttered  my  mother-in-law. 

"  Yes,  she  did  ;  and  I  have  given  instructions 
—  in  white,"  said  Miriam. 

The  woman  let  fall  her  flowers. 

"  If  she  had  had  a  grudge  against  me"  she 
said  angrily,  "she  couldn't  have  more  crossed 
my  wishes ;  and  she  with  a  full  suit  of  black 
satin  !  I  declare  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  look  folks 
in  the  face.  One  would  think  we  had  been 
reared  in  the  dark  ages.  Everybody  who  is 
buried  decently  is  buried  in  good  clothes."  Say- 
ing this,  she  left  the  room. 

Miriam  smiled  faintly. 

"  My  aunt  is  a  great  stickler  for  fashion,  even 
with  the  dead,"  she  said  sadly. 


136  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

I  attempted  a  few  words  of  consolation,  but 
they  seemed  to  fall  flat.  Miriam  was  silent. 
One  thought  was  dominant  in  my  mind.  Her 
mother  had  disliked  an.d  defied  me,  and  my  pres- 
ence was  distasteful  to  her.  She  only  listened 
on  sufferance.  I  rose  to  depart,  and  held  out 
my  hand.  She  gave  me  hers,  but  only  for  a 
touch,  drawing  it  away  as  if  it  stung  her. 

"Cousin  Miriam,"  I  said,  "are  we  not 
friends  ? " 

Turning  partly  away,  she  whispered  some- 
thing that  was  inaudible  to  me ;  turned  again, 
cast  upon  me  a  look  that  I  should  have  resented 
had  she  given  me  time,  and  hurried  from  the 
room,  apparently  convulsed  with  grief. 

This  was  pleasant,  and  I  heartily  wished 
Hester's  cousin  at  the  antipodes.  So  poor  and 
weak  a  creature  was  not  exactly  formidable  as 
an  enemy,  but  even  weakness  has  its  weapons 
when  guided  by  impulse  or  passion. 

Hester  was  an  eager  questioner  when  I  re- 
turned home.  How  did  Miriam  meet  me  ?  what 
was  her  mother  doing  ?  To  stay  the  tide  of  her 
unreasoning  yet  natural  curiosity,  I  brought 
forth  the  earring  I  had  found. 

Hester  seized  it  with  a  little  cry. 

"  Where  did  you  find  it  ?  I  have  its  counter- 
part up-stairs  in  my  jewel-box.  The  rings  be- 
longed to  my  mother's  great-grandmother !  O 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 


Hal,  what  a  lucky  fellow  you  are  !  I  have  so 
many  times  wished  for  this,  so  valuable  as  an 
heirloom,  you  know  ;  and  now  I  can  wear  them 
both.  Mother  will  be  so  delighted.  How  did 
it  come  in  your  possession  ?  " 

I  explained. 

"  I'm  so  glad  !  We  always  thought  poor 
Prinny  stole  it.  Prinny  was  a  half-witted  girl, 
who  used  to  come  with  her  mother  to  do  the 
scrubbing  when  I  was  a  child.  I  remember 
there  was  a  terrible  time,  and  how  meek  the 
poor  woman  was  under  it  all.  I  remember  also 
hearing  afterwards  that  people  thought  mother 
was  very  hard  towards  her,  and  also  that  when 
the  girl  died,  a  few  years  ago,  she  declared  that 
God  would  show  those  rich,  purse-proud  people 
that  she  was  innocent.  Now,  you  know,  this 
proves  it  ;  and  we  must  go  at  once  to  Susan 
Coles,  and  tell  her  about  it." 

To  Susan  Coles  I  gladly  accompanied  my 
wife  that  very  night.  The  old  woman  lived  in 
a  little  tumble-down  cabin  on  the  edge  of  the 
county  road.  I  shall  never  forget  her  look  when 
Hester  told  the  story  of  finding  the  earring. 

"  My  poor  Prinny  !  do  you  hear  ?  do  you  see  ?  " 
she  said,  in  accents  of  almost  holy  joy.  Then, 
turning  to  us  with  dignity,  "  I  knew  my  child 
wasn't  a  thief.  And  I  don't  believe  you  ever 
thought  it,  Miss  Hester,"  she  added. 


138  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"  No,  Susan  :  I  always  pitied  you,"  said  Hes- 
ter, "and  kept  a  lookout  for  you." 

"That  you  have,  Miss  Hester:  the  Lord  bless 
you  for  it !  "  said  the  old  wornflp 

From  there  to  the  profe^lrs  house.  Hes- 
ter's mother  heard  the  storjifcough,  and  looked 
at  the  ring.  jM 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  Prinn^udn't  take  it,  now," 
she  said  serenely.  "I  should  like  to  know, how 
you  can  prove  that  she  didn't  throw  it  where 
you  found  it." 

"That's  mother!"  said  Hester  to  me  after- 
wards :  "  once  she  makes  up  her  mind,  no  earth- 
ly power  can  change  it.  I  have  noticed  that 
trait  in  our  Frenchman ;  —  and,  by  the  way, 
don't  you  see  how  much  he  likes  Dolly  ?  I'm 
quite  sure  he  will  marry  her,  and  take  her  to 
Paris  on  their  bridal  tour.  And  his  sister  is 
coming  over  to  America,  —  the  sister  he  loves 
so  dearly.  It  does  me  good  to  hear  him  talk 
about  her.  By  the  way,  I  don't  think  you  have 
seen  her  picture." 

She  went  to  a  little  cabinet,  and  brought  me 
a  picture  of  a  beautiful  woman,  dressed  in  black, 
with  soft  laces  at  wrists  and  throat. 

"That  is  the  French  colonel's  wife :  and  they 
have  a  little  son,  a  darling  little  boy ;  she  is 
going  to  bring  him  with  her.  It  seems  as  if  he 
would  go  wild  with  happiness  when  he  talks 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  139 

about  'them.  '  Only  three  weeks,'  he  says, 
over  and  over,  'and 'I  shall  see  mon  ange  Elise !' 
I  have  become  so  much  interested  in  her,  my- 
self, that  I  know  I  shall  like  her  as  a  friend. 
And  she  can  talk  English  too.  He  showed  me 
a  letter  very  fairly  written,  indeed,  for  a  French 
woman  who  has  never  left  France.  There  was 
an  allusion  to  Madame  the  Comtesse  de  Berri ; 
which  shows,  you  know,  that  they  have  good 
society." 

I  was  very  glad  for  little  Dolly,  the  more  so 
as  my  wife  seemed  to  vouch  for  the  respecta- 
bility of  Ravaillac.  But  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  should  ask  for  something  more 
than  his  word  for  it. 


I4O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

"  To  make  pretence,  look  large,  and  cry  up  my  ancestors,  sirs  I " 

MRS.  HOPE  was  buried,  the  cottage  let  to 
a  widow  who  taught  school,  and  Miriam 
became  an  inmate  of  the  professor's  home. 
Marguerite  was  well  pleased  with  the  arrange- 
ment, as  she  had  never  liked  her  school ;  and 
Miriam  was  quite  competent  to  instruct  the 
child  in  all  the  common  branches. 

I  seldom  saw  Miriam,  except  when  she  came 
to  church ;  and  then  the  professor's  pew  was 
nearer  the  choir  than  the  chancel :  and  she 
never  remained  after  services,  even  to  speak  to 
Hester,  who  declared,  that,  of  late,  Miriam  was 
an  enigma. 

One  day  Jenkins  brought  an  ordinary  paper 
tablet,  which  he  said  he  had  found  one  Sunday, 
a  little  way  from  the  rector's  pew.  At  first  I 
placed  it  on  my  desk,  for  I  was  busy.  A  fresh 
instalment  of  the  Tracy-Stanley  scandal  had 
just  been  brought  to  my  hearing,  and  it  pained 
me  deeply.  Mrs.  Tracy  never  came  to  church 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  14! 

now,  and  her  daughter  but  seldom.  That  very 
day  Hester  had  fixed  upon  for  a  visit  to  Mrs. 
Tracy. 

I  had  not  yet  learned  the  art  of  resting,  but 
took  plunges  from  one  sort  of  work  into  another, 
till  both  brain  and  heart  were  wearied  with  con- 
tinuous labor.  Added  to  this,  the  wear  and  tear 
of  sympathy  with  some  extraordinary  phases  of 
mental  suffering  among  the  members  of  my 
congregation  made  even  my  sleep  uncertain. 
Mrs.  Dickory  was  another  worry  incidental  to 
my  discomfort.  She  would  persist  in  bringing 
her  three  restless,  nervous  children  to  church, 
dressed  in  the  most  outre,  outlandish  manner, 
and  parading  them  on  the  front  seat  just  oppo- 
site the  lectern.  There  she  busied  herself 
during  the  whole  service,  inspecting  their  nails 
and  noses,  brushing  their  hair,  picking  sundry 
obstructions  out  of  their  ears  and  her  own, 
making  eyes  at  me,  and  posing  in  what  she 
thought  an  attitude  of  perfect  grace,  but  which 
was  so  ridiculous  that  I  sometimes  thought  I 
must  leave  the  sacred  desk,  and  turn  her  and 
all  the  young  Dickories  out  of  the  house.  Mr. 
Dickory  never  came  :  they  said  he  did  his  best 
work  on  Sunday.  But  Mrs.  Dickory  more  than 
made  up  for  his  absence.  She  was  always  the 
last  person  to  leave  the  church  :  and  she  talked 
incessantly,  whoever  else  claimed  my  attention ; 


142  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

while  I  had  not  even  the  poor  privilege  of  bid- 
ding her  hold  her  tongue,  but  must  listen  with 
one  ear  on  her  side,  and  one  on  the  other,  where 
perchance  some  one  else  talked  and  talked. 

Of  all  men,  the  minister  is  the  most  acces- 
sible to  bores.  They  come  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  invade  his  sanctum,  smoke  his  cigars  if 
he  uses  them,  appropriate  his  time.  Under 
cover  of  all  kinds  of  charitable  plans,  religious 
doubts  or  enthusiasms,  missionary  zeal,  domestic 
difficulties,  they  steal  not  only  his  purse,  for  it 
often  virtually  amounts  to  that,  —  but  his  peace 
of  mind,  and  his  well-earned  rest.  The  greater 
his  need  of  privacy  at  certain  times,  the  more 
frequent  the  interruption,  until  he  cries  with 
St.  Paul,  "  Wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall 
deliver  me  ? "  It  takes  a  man  of  peculiar  re- 
sources to  rid  himself  of  such  pests  without 
injury  to  his  reputation  as  a  Christian,  or  his 
self-respect  as  a  man. 

I  had  prepared  the  paper  for  my  sermon  after 
Jenkins  had  taken  his  long  ears  out  of  my  study, 
when  suddenly  my  eye  fell  on  the  tablets. 
Something  in  the  fine,  formal  handwriting  at- 
tracted my  attention ;  and  I  lifted  it,  bringing 
it  nearer.to  me.  I  looked  it  over  for  some  in- 
dication of  the  personnel of  the  writer ;  but  there 
was  no  name,  not  even  a  nom  du  plume.  Had  I 
among  my  congregation  an  incipient  novelist  ? 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  143 

Almost  before  I  knew  it,  my  glance  ran  over 
the  items. 

"Mem.  —  The  name  shall  be —  I  will  find 
a  name  later  on. 

"To  be  consistent,  I  must  fit  in  and  perfectly 
dovetail  every  fact,  and  make  my  memory  to 
be  unassailable.  For  this  purpose,  these  facts 
must  be  of  the  utmost  completeness. 

"There  shall  be  an  old  family,  and  it  must 
be  that  the  ancestry  shall  be  studied  and  traced 
so  carefully  that  no  mistakes  can  be  possible. 

"  First,  then,  there  is  the  grand-mere,  born  of 

noble  parents,  living  at ,  where  she  was 

born,  as  was  also  my  mother.  Her  home  shall 
be  studied,  from  the  tiling  on  the  floors,  to  the 
initials  on  the  gable  of  the  house.  I  shall  know 
even  just  where  the  cat  sits.  I  shall  answer 
for  the  birds  and  the  flowers,  their  color  and 
their  perfume.  The  chair  near  the  hearth  is 
tapestried  :  the  table  is  of  red  satin-wood  ;  and 
always  there  is  a  basket  there,  filled  with  col- 
ored cottons  and  wools. 

"  With  that  house  are  connected  several  sto- 
ries. Great  generals  have  made  it  their  resort. 
During  the  war,  it  must  have  been  respected 
and  guarded.  The  grandmother  must  be  small, 
quick  in  all  her  movements,  with  a  very  beauti- 
ful smile.  She  must  have  received  her  grand- 
child, when  the  mother  died,  as  a  gift  from  le 


144  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

bon  Dieu,  and  trained  him  very  carefully.  Her 
hair  must  be  snow-white,  and  her  eyes  large 
and  dark. 

"  Then,  there  must  be  a  sister  married  from 
the  same  house,  —  and,  of  course,  much  older 
than  I  am,  —  to  one  of  the  great  colonels.  She 
moves  to  another  home,  really  a  palace  on  some 
fine  boulevard,  and  is  very  intimate  with  the 
nobility.  Her  name  will  be  —  I  will  think  of 
her  name  presently.  She  is  married  five  years. 
Her  beautiful  little  child  is  three  years  old. 
Ah !  the  treasure !  the  petit  neveu !  One's 
heart  leaps  out  to  him  so,  the  sweet  little  angel 
with  eyes  that  win  one's  love !  Yes,  that  is 
well  conceived,  —  the  sister,  the  grand  colonel, 
the  little  nephew.  It  then  remains  that  I  can 
do  what  I  please  with  the  dramatis  persona.  I 
make  them,  and  like  puppets  I  move  them. 
They  live,  they  die,  at  my  command.  They 
have  wealth,  horses,  carriages,  servants,  as  I 
multiply  or  lessen  them.  What  a  privilege ! 

"  Now  for  myself ! 

"  If  pressed  to  say  why  I  leave  Paris,  I  have 
ready  a  story  at  my  tongue's  end. 

"  I  am  educated  a  soldier.  I  am  the  son  of  a 
French  officer,  a  martinet  as  well  as  a  military 
man.  Of  imposing  presence,  tall,  muscular,  of 
broad  shoulders,  one  of  the  handsomest  of  hand- 
some men,  very  much  in  love  with  my  mother, 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  145 

very  strict  and  severe  with  the  son,  such  is  my 
father.  I  admire,  I  fear  him,  but  I  love  him 
not.  He  uses  to  me  the  strictest  discipline. 
I  am  punished  for  the  most  trifling  things.  I 
escape  from  school  to  go  fishing  one  day.  I  am 
put  in  solitary  confinement  one  week.  I  refuse 
to  touch  my  hat  to  an  old  soldier.  I  am  put  in 
irons  for  one  day.  These  things  to  invent  is 
easy.  I  will  stock  my  mind  with  them,  and  so 
set  down  all  I  would  say,  and  fortify  my  mem- 
ory so  as  that  I  never  forget. 

"Then,  as  I  grow  up,  I  receive  a  military 
education.  I  am  put  in  a  French  battalion,  and 
I  dislike  to  be  deprived  of  my  liberty.  At  last 
I  have  a  quarrel.  I,  second  lieutenant,  strike 
my  superior,  first  lieutenant,  with  my  sword. 
For  that  I  am  court-martialed  ;  but,  after  sen- 
tence is  passed,  I  free  myself,  and  immediately 
fly  my  country.  Ah  !  beloved  France  !  '  France, 
I  adore*  theet*  I  cannot  see  thee  for  three 
years  !  My  little  grandmother  idolizes  the  only 
son  of  her  only  daughter.  Every  month  I 
receive  presents  and  letters.  On  my  birthday 
Elise  —  yes,  I  will  call  her  Elise  —  cables  me 
a  message,  not  forgetting  my  dear  love,  whom 
I  idolize,  mon  ange,  the  beautiful  little  one  above 
all  others  of  her  sex,  and  whom  I  would  die  for. 
My  sister  will  write  me  that  she  longs  to  em- 
brace me ;  that  she  will  come  to  America.  I 


146  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

engage  for  her  a  room  :  I  look  for  her  coming 
with  ecstasy.  Alas  !  she  is  ill !  She  has  fallen 
from  her  horse:  she  is  very  ill — like  to  die! 
Thus  her  visit  is  put  off  till  later.  But  she  will 
come  —  do  not  her  letters  tell  me  so  ?  —  if  she 
lives  !  Again  she  is  coming  —  again  she  is  de- 
tained —  it  may  be  necessary  for  her  to  die. 
Of  that  I  will  decide  myself  in  time.  She  sends 
gifts  to  mon  ange,  gifts  of  the  very  finest  Paris 
quality  —  that  can  easily  be  done.  She,  with 
my  grandmother,  will  send  me  money  each 
month.  Then,  when  all  is  safe  —  Ah  !  when 
all  is  safe  !  Will  that  time  come  ?  I  am  re- 
quired to  produce  such  evidence  "  — 

Here  the  manuscript  ended,  and  I  sat  looking 
at  it  stupidly.  That  neat,  methodical  hand, 
more  like  print  than  pen  —  I  had  seen  it  before, 
on  the  notes  sent  to  the  house,  to  little  Dolly. 
What  was  I  to  think?  Ravaillac  must  have 
been  the  writer ;  but  what  motive  could  under- 
lie the  curious  invention,  if  invention  it  was  ? 
Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  a  mere  literary  rtsumt ' ; 
monsieur  might  be  an  author ;  or  he  might  be 
giving  points  to  Dolly,  knowing  her  to  be  a 
writer  of  fiction.  But  then,  why  did  this  writ- 
ten record  correspond  so  exactly  with  his  pres- 
ent plan  of  action  ?  Hester  had  spoken  of  his 
sister,  showed  me  her  picture  ;  she  was  the  wife 
of  a  military  man ;  his  description  of  his  grand- 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  147 

mother  corresponded  to  the  sketch  before  me  ; 
his  sister  was  expected  in  America ;  he  had 
engaged  rooms  for  her.  I  remembered  now, 
Dolly's  exhibiting  some  very  beautiful  frag- 
ments of  silk  and  satin,  pieces  of  dresses  in 
preparation  of  making  for  the  tour  to  America. 
Quite  proper  that  a  sister  interested  in  the  only 
brother  she  had  in  the  world,  should  be  thus 
intimate  in  her  correspondence.  Hester  had 
liked  it,  and  praised  her  for  it.  Was  my  wife's 
usual  acute  sense  of  right  and  wrong  at  fault  ? 
I  had  surprised  her  two  or  three  times  studying 
the  Frenchman's  face,  and  once  or  twice  she 
had  gone  off  into  a  reverie  while  talking  of  him. 
Did  she  have  forebodings,  and  yet  decline  to 
speak  of  them,  seeing  Dolly  so  very,  very  happy, 
so  thoroughly  in  love  with  her  hero  ? 

"  It  is  like  the  atmosphere  of  fairy-land,"  she 
said  to  me  on  one  occasion,  "  to  sit  where  they 
two  are,,  and  look  on  now  and  then  — sometimes 
to  catch  some  beautiful  ray  of  love-light.  It  is 
idyllic.  Who  could  predict  any  thing  but  hap- 
piness ? " 

Meantime  my  sisters  had  each  had  their  say. 
To  one  and  all,  the  Frenchman  was  distasteful : 
they  didn't  like  foreigners  ;  they  didn't  want 
Dolly  carried  off  from  the  home  of  her  kindred, 
and  treated  nobody  knew  how.  They  usually 
made  prim  little  calls  on  us  when  they  came  to 


148  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

the  city,  very  seldom  remaining  over  a  day.  But 
they  came  often,  as  they  were  getting  ready  for 
my  sister  Belle's  marriage ;  and  they  were  all 
loud  in  their  praises  of  Hester's  house-keeping. 
It  hurt  Dolly  that  her  sisters  seemed  to  have 
taken  so  decided  a  dislike  to  her  lover,  but  only 
made  her  cling  to  him  the  closer. 

Should  I  at  once  confide  in  Hester  ?  My  good 
genius  said  "  Yes ; "  but  my  natural  tendency 
to  defer  all  matters  that  were  not  pleasant  to 
some  other  day,  triumphed  this  time.  I  placed 
the  tablet  in  my  pocket,  fully  intending  to  speak 
to  Hester  soon. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  149 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

"  A  happy  thought,  a  sweet  surprise, 
Glad  words,  and  gladder  kisses." 

TO  find  Hester  in  a  storm  of  angry  tears,  al- 
most in  hysterics,  in  fact,  was  an  episode  in 
my  married  life  for  which  I  was  not  prepared. 

"  Go  down  to  tea  without  me  :  I  am  too  thor- 
oughly vexed  to  eat  or  drink  for  a  week  to  come," 
she  said,  rising  as  she  spoke,  and  dabbing  her 
eyes  with  an  expensive  bit  of  flabby  muslin. 

"  Why,  Hester,  what  have  I  done  ? "  I  asked 
in  mild  consternation. 

"Nothing  —  only  committed  the  unpardon- 
able offence  of  being  a  man ! "  was  her  rather 
irascible  and  unreasonable  answer.  "I  have 
been  over  to  Mrs.  Tracy's,  that's  all.  It's  just 
abominable,  the  way  that  poor  woman  is  being 
killed  by  inches !  I  really  think  her  husband 
ought  to  be  arrested  for  murder." 

"My  dear!  are  you  not  rash  in  your  asser- 
tion ? "  I  asked. 

"  No !   to  marry  a  woman,  and  then  torture 


I5O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

her,  is  a  crime  against  God  and  man.  If  you 
had  seen  that  poor  heart-broken  creature  !  And 
yet  she  could  smile.  '  It  is  all  over  now/  she 
said,  '  and  I  am  glad.'  Do  you  believe  she  will 
die  ? " 

"  Is  she  in  bed  ?  " 

"  No ;  moving  about  the  house,  her  cheeks 
like  roses ;  but  yet  in  her  eyes  there  is  a  look 
of  death.  I  wish  she  was  more  assertive.  I'd 
like  to  see  the  man  /  would  die  for ! "  with  a 
vindictive  little  glare  and  another  dab.  "It 
seems  she  found  something  —  a  letter,  I  think 
—  from  that  —  woman  —  that  creature !  the  vile 
thing !  she  ought  to  be  torn  in  pieces."  , 

"  But  what  can  I  do  ? " 

"  Don't  let  him  sing  those  holy  words  Sunday 
after  Sunday.  It  is  blasphemy  in  the  sight  of 
Heaven. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "it  is  blasphemy;  but  what 
shall  we  do  about  the  service  ? " 

"  Let  the  service  go.  Get  the  Sunday-school 
children  in  the  choir,  and  send  that  woman  off. 
I'll  play  the  organ  till  you  can  get  somebody 
else."  " 

"  Is  not  that  going  to  extremes  ? " 

"No:  it  is  simple  justice.  Mercy  under  such 
circumstances  is  criminal :  forbearance  is  no 
longer  a  virtue.  I  cannot  hear  that  man  sing 
again." 


TELL   YOUR  WIFE.  151 

"  I  will  see  about  it  to-night,"  I  said.  "  Bathe 
your  eyes,  and  come  down  to  tea:  don't  visit 
your  wrath  upon  my  poor  unprotected  head." 

"  No,  indeed  !  Thank  God  that  he  has  given 
me  a  true  heart  that  has  no  vile  secrets  to  hide  !  " 
And  she  shed  the  last  tears  on  my  bosom,  held 
close  to  my  heart.  Then  we  went  down-stairs 
together,  she  little  thinking  that  I  had  withheld 
a  secret  from  her. 

Mr.  Ravaillac  was  there.  Perhaps  my  greet- 
ing was  constrained.  He  looked  at  me  keenly, 
then  silently  backed  to  a  seat  near  Dolly,  who 
was  knitting.  We  were  all  rather  moody  at 
the  '  tea-table.  I  had  a  miserable  task  before 
me  :  Ravaillac  was  quieter  than  his  wont,  Dolly 
abstracted. 

As  usual  on  that  evening,  the  choir  practised  ; 
and,  as  usual,  the  tenor  and  the  organist  were 
the  last  to  leave.  I  heard  them  talking  together 
in  low  .tones,  but  yet  could  not  bring  myself  to 
determine  in  what  manner  to  broach  the  subject. 
Still,  what  my  wife  had  said  rung  in  my  ears,  — 
"  Don't  let  him  sing  those  holy  words  Sunday 
after  Sunday," — and  I  could  not  longer  brook 
the  seeming  inconsistency.  I  had  become  al- 
most morbidly  nervous  by  reason  of  the  con- 
stant allusions  of  my  friends  to  this  matter. 
What  train  of  circumstances  my  plain  talk  might 
disclose,  I  could  not  conjecture ;  but  I  was  pow- 


152  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

erless  to  prevent  it,  for  my  own  conscience  sec- 
onded the  decision  that  Hester  wished  me  to 
make. 

Presently  I  heard  steps  coming  towards  the 
study. 

Another  moment,  and  tall,  handsome  Tom 
Tracy  stood  before  me,  a  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  I  just  wanted  you  to  run  your  eye  over  this," 
he  said  quietly,  as  he  placed  the  paper  before 
me.  It  was  a  list  of  the  anthems,  hymns,  and 
Te  Deum  to  be  sung  at  Christmas. 

"  I  shall  take  it  to  '  The  Daily  News '  on  my 
way  to  the  office  to-morrow,"  he  said,  as  I  re- 
folded and  handed  it  to  him.  "  It  will  probably 
be  out  in  Saturday-night's  paper.  That  will 
be  time  enough,  as  Christmas  comes  this  year 
on  Sunday."  • 

"  You  will  sing  the  new  Te  Dettm,  I  suppose," 
I  said,  with  a  view  to  detaining  him ;  "  that  is, 
z/you  sing." 

"  If  I  sing  !  why,  of  course  I  shall  sing ! "  he 
said. 

"  I  don't  know,  after  what  I  have  to  say  to 
you,"  was  my  reply. 

"I  hope  it  is  nothing  very  serious,"  he  re- 
marked, with  his  soft,  sweet  smile ;  but  it 
seemed  to  me  that  a  harder  look  came  into  his 
face. 

"  Simply  this,  Mr.  Tracy,  —  that  this  flirtation 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  153 

with  Mrs.  Stanley  has  gone  too  far,  if  indeed  it 
is  nothing  more  than  what  that  mild  word  sig- 
nifies. Several  of  the  wardens  have  spoken  to 
me ;  your  wife  herself  is  in  a  most  pitiable  con- 
dition ;  and,  seriously,  I  must  request  that  in 
some  effectual  way  the  thing  be  disposed  of 
before  you  both  lose  your  good  name  with  the 
public.  Believe  me,  I  speak  as  a  friend.  I  do 
not  want  you  to  become  my  enemy." 

"Then,  why  do  you  try  to  make  me  your 
enemy  ? "  Tom  Tracy  asked,  lifting  his  square 
shoulders  haughtily,  and  looking  me  defiantly 
in  the  face,  while  an  angry  red  glowed  on  each 
cheek.  "There  was  a  time  when  people  said 
the  young  minister  was  flirting  with  the  cousin 
of  his  destined  wife.  I  myself  knew  of  your 
going  there  six  evenings  out  of  the  seven. 
Those  who  live  in  glass  houses  had  better  not 
throw  stones.  I  fancy  you  did  not  tell  your 
wife  of  that  brief  infatuation.  Oh  !  I  know  all 
about  it,  reverend  sir  —  more,  perhaps,  than 
you  think." 

I  rose  from  my  seat,  angry  and  white  ;  for  I 
felt  the  blood  rush  back  upon  my  heart. 

"  My  wife  left  her  cousin  in  my  care,"  I  said; 
"but  I  shall  not  notice  your  contemptible  speech. 
You  are  a  married  man  :  Mrs.  Stanley  is  a  mar- 
ried woman.  You  say  her  husband  is  cruel  to 
her  :  have  you  no  pity  for  your  wife,  whose 
heart  you  are  slowly  breaking  ? " 


154  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

"  Tilly  must  have  confidence  in  me :  she 
knows  better,"  he  said  sullenly.  "  If  she  has 
a  mind  to  distrust  me,  and  allows  her  absurd 
jealousy  to  master  her,  she  must.  I  swear  I 
won't  humble  myself !  " 

"  Is  Mrs.  Stanley  waiting  for  you  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Mrs.  Stanley  is  probably  waiting  for  me," 
he  said,  after  a  slight  pause. 

"  Let  her  wait  in  vain,"  I  said,  touching  his 
sleeve  with  my  finger.  "Let  me  plead  with 
you,  as  a  minister  of  God,  to  go  home  to  your 
wife,  and  let  her  go  home  to  her  husband  alone. 
She  is  not  one  of  the  timid  sort,  believe  me; 
she  is  not  afraid ;  it  is  customary  with  women 
who  support  themselves.  Think  how  much 
happiness  you  will  give  your  wife!  It  would 
hurt  you  to  look  into  a  new-made  grave." 

That  he  was  touched,  I  knew  by  a  certain 
movement  of  the  lip,  a  contraction  of  the  brow. 
I  followed  up  my  advantage  till  I  thought  he 
would  listen  to  me. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "I  may 
excuse  myself ; "  and  with  that  I  had  to  be  con- 
tent. I  could  not  play  the  spy,  but  Jenkins 
did.  He  had  -not,  it  seems,  been  far  away 
during  the  whole  interview,  and  so  came  to  me 
ten  minutes  after  Tom  had  gone,  and  in  a  stage- 
whisper,  putting  his  gaunt  face  and  long  ears 
in  at  the  door,  said,  — 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  155 

"Muster  Tracy  seen  her  home!  —  got  into 
the  car  himself,  and  went  past  Tolman  Square." 

Tolman  Square  was  where  Tom  Tracy  lived, 
where  his  wife  was  slowly  dying ;  and  I  had 
doubtless  made  him  my  pitiless  enemy. 

Christmas  Day  came.  Never  had  the  church 
looked  more  beautiful :  never  had  the  sunshine 
seemed  more  glorious  as  it  sifted  through  the 
stained  windows,  and  painted  the  walls  and  the 
ceilings  with  the  master  hand  of  an  artist  who 
never  makes  mistakes  in  outline  or  coloring. 

The  bell  rang,  tolled :  no  sound  from  the 
silent  organ,  no  face  above  the  choir-curtains ! 

Christmas  Day,  and  no  service  of  song !  My 
hand  trembled  as  I  turned  the  pages  of  the 
hymnal,  and  my  heart  sank  within  me.  My 
cowardly  tenor  had  deserted  me  without  a  word 
of  warning ;  though  doubtless  many  had  been 
drawn  by  the  advertisement  in  the  evening 
paper,  to  hear  the  new  and  celebrated  Te  Deum. 
Never  had  the  old  church  been  so  filled  :  every- 
where the  faces  of  my  people,  everywhere  the 
faces  of  strangers,  mixed  and  mingled.  There 
was  a  surfeit  of  color ;  every  countenance  shone 
in  the  reflected  light ;  even  Mrs.  Dickory  and 
her  three  ill-favored  children  contrived  to  look 
a  little  like  saints  on  that  glorious  day :  —  but 
what  should  I  do  without  the  Christmas  service 
of  song  ? 


156  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  subdued  murmuring,  and 
then  a  rustle  as  of  angel's  wings.  Presently  a 
low,  sweet  solo  stole  from  the  organ  through 
the  quiet,  and  then  some  pure  harmonies,  that 
fell  on  the  hush,  and  on  my  perturbed  spirit, 
like  voices  from  the  celestial  land. 

A  paper  was  sent  up  to  me,  which  I  read 
under  cover  of  my  book. 

"  Go  on  just  the  same :  we  will  chant  the  Te  Deum. 
Dolly  will  sing  'Angels  ever  bright'  at  the  offertory.  We 
have  it  all  arranged."  HESTER." 

My  trembling  soul  took  courage.  I  felt  like 
a  bird  just  escaped  from  the  snare  of  the  fowler, 
and  stood  erect  once  more,  freed  from  the  bur- 
den that  had  well-nigh  conquered  me.  Then 
sounded  the  clear,  well-trained  voices  of  the 
children,  thirty  of  them  ;  and  a  look  of  surprise, 
blended  with  pleasure,  passed  from  face  to  face. 
All  the  chants,  the  Gloria,  the  Te  Deum,  passed 
off  in  succession  with  perfect  toning  and  excep- 
tional harmony.  Then  at  the  close  came  Dolly's 
beautiful  soprano  voice,  faultless  and  unfalter- 
ing, in  "Angels  ever  bright  and  fair."  The 
service  of  song  was  a  triumph.  One  after  an- 
other of  my  parishioners  came  forward  at  the 
close.  "  What  a  surprise  you  have  given  us ! 
what  a  charming  service !  Whose  was  that 
birdlike  voice  in  the  solo  ?  How  can  we  thank 
you  enough  ? " 


Hester  was  radiant. 

"  Well ! "  she  exclaimed  breathlessly,  as  I  met 
her  in  the  parlor.  For  answer  I  caught  her  to 
my  heart. 

"  Dolly  and  I  talked  it  over,"  said  Hester, 
after  she  had  blushingly  disentangled  her  curls 
from  one  of  my  coat-buttons.  "I  was  afraid 
Tracy  would  play  you  that  trick.  As  the 
Quakers  say,  it  was  borne  in  upon  me ;  so,  fear- 
ful that  you  might  be  left  in  the  lurch,  Dolly 
and  I  called  upon  some  of  our  best  singers  in 
the  Sunday  school,  and  we  have  been  practising 
ever  since,  at  the  house  of  Mayor  Proctor." 

"  But  you  might  have  told  me,"  I  said. 

"If  we  had  been  sure  —  but  of  course  we  had 
no  hint  of  how  matters  stood.  It  was  simply 
my  prescience,  or  whatever  you  might  call  it. 
We  all  met  together  in  the  parsonage  after  the 
ringing  of  the  bell,  and  Jenkins  came  in  from 
time  to  time  to  report  progress.  Then,  as  the 
bell  tolled,  and  still  they  came  not,  we  forthwith 
proceeded  to  action.  How  did  you  like  my  vol- 
untary ? " 

"  Coming,  as  it  did,  on  that  terrible  blank  of 
expectation,  it  was  .simply  delicious,"  I  said, 
"  I  grew  to  the  stature  of  a  man  at  once.  Be- 
fore that,  I  was  not  conscious  of  any  thing  but 
a  stinging  defeat,  and  a  curious  sense  of  having 
brought  it  upon  myself.  And  then  the  sweet 


158  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

voices  of  the  children  !  Truly  it  was  a  fitting 
service  of  song  for  the  beautiful  Christmas." 

"I  have  another  surprise,"  said  Hester;  and, 
throwing  open  the  folding-doors,  there  were  my 
sisters,  her  parents,  Miriam,  and  the  children 
who  had  so  lightened  the  labors  of  the  holy  day. 

Dinner  was  a  feast  of  good  things,  and  a  hap- 
pier company  never  gathered  together  under 
the  roof  of  the  rectory.  Still,  if  I  must  confess 
it,  my  pleasure  was  strangely  marred  by  the 
proximity  of  Miriam,  who  was  seated  at  my  left 
hand.  Why  should  she  be  a  disturbing  pres- 
ence ?  but  it  was  always  so. 

"  Did  you  notice  the  tenor  ? "  asked  Hester, 
when  we  talked  it  over. 

"  I  heard  one  of  the  sweetest  of  tenor  voices, 
but  cannot  imagine  whose  it  was,"  I  said. 

"  Mr.  Ravaillac  helped  us,"  was  Hester's  re- 
joinder. "Indeed,  we  have  been  greatly  in- 
debted to  him  all  the  way  through." 

"  Why  is  he  not  here  ? "  I  asked.  "  I  should 
like  to  thank  him." 

"  He  had  a  cablegram  from  his  sister :  it  was 
brought  into  church  just  after  service,"  said 
Hester.  "  He  would  not  tell  us  what  it  was, 
but  looked  very  much  agitated,  and  said  he 
must  go  to  his  boarding-house  at  once.  I  hope 
nothing  has  happened." 

"Oh!" 


TELL   YOUR  WIFE.  159 

I  was  mentally  reading  a  line  from  the  little 
block  Jenkins  had  found. 

"  /  make  them,  and  like  puppets  I  move  them. 
They  live  and  die  at  my  command." 

"  But  he  might  have  helped  us  eat  our  Christ- 
mas dinner ! " 

"  Lucky  for  you,  my  dear,  that  I  could  spare 
my  cook.  You  never  would  have  hired  a  woman 
that  could  brown  a  turkey  like  that,  could  she, 
professor  ? " 

"  It  was  a  perfect  success,"  said  the  professor, 
folding  his  napkin. 


I6O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

"  Of  all  sad  bridals,  that  was  saddest : 
Of  all  sad  brides,  the  saddest  she." 

TRACY  was  lost  to  us.  In  less  than  a 
1.  month  he  was  the  leader  of  another  choir 
where  Mrs.  Stanley  played  the  organ.  People 
cried  "  Shame ! "  and  then  perhaps  forgot  it, 
but  we  were  denied  that  consolation.  His  wife 
was  a  member  of  my  church,  as  was  also  her 
daughter. 

One  day,  a  week  after  Christmas,  I  was  called 
for,  to  go  to  Mrs.  Tracy  The  messenger  was 
her  own  servant,  whose  eyes  were  red  with 
weeping. 

"  Is  your  mistress  worse  ? "  I  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  but  it's  a  wedding  cere- 
mony they  want,  I  believe.  Miss  Tracy  is 
going  to  be  married." 

"  Certainly  she  is  going  to  be  married,"  said 
Hester ;  "but  I  have  heard  them  say  Repeatedly, 
that  the  ceremony  was  to  be  in  the  church. 
You  know  she  has  a  splendid  outfit,  and  her 
wedding-dress  is  a  miracle  of  lace  and  embroid- 


TELL    YOUR   WIFF.  l6l 

ery.  Mrs.  Tracy  showed  it  to  me  the  last  time 
I  was  there.  They  have  been  taking  great 
pains  with  the  invitations.  It  must  be  a  mis- 
take of  the  maid." 

"  You  will  go  with  me,"  I  said ;  and  Hester, 
laughing  at  my  anxious  face,  ran  to  get  her 
wraps. 

"  Oh,  I  am  chilly  !  "  said  Hester,  shuddering, 
as  we  neared  the  door.  "  Look  for  me  :  is  the 
handle  craped  ? " 

I  assured  her  there  was  nothing  on  the  door. 

"I  seemed  to  see  it,"  she  said,  drawing  a 
long  breath,  then  grasped  my  arm  more  tightly. 
The  door  was  opened  by  a  strange  woman. 

"You  will  go  up-stairs,"  she  said  solemnly. 
The  atmosphere  was  stifling.  I  felt  myself  be- 
ginning to  tremble  with  some  vague  fear.  The 
door  to  the  right  was  open  :  it  led  into  Mrs. 
Tracy's  room.  We  heard  hasty  footsteps,  and 
saw  the.,  flitting  of  a  white-draped  figure :  we 
heard  heavy  sobs. 

There  was  but  a  moment  between  that  and 
the  sight  of  Mrs.  Tracy  breathing  heavily  on 
her  great  white  bed.  Tom  stood  at  the  head, 
and  she  had  grasped  and  now  held  his  hand  con- 
vulsively. Sometimes  she  held  it  up  to  her  pil- 
low, and  pressed  her  cheek  against  it. 

"  Don't  worry,  dear  :  I  am  very  glad,"  she  said, 
looking  up  into  his  cold,  handsome  face,  with  a 


1 62  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

glance  that  could  not  be  described,  yearning, 
pitiful,  wistful,  as  if  to  call  his  very  soul  to  ac- 
count, hear  his  confession,  and  forgive. 

Presently  the  women  at  the  door-way  made  a 
movement,  and  in  their  midst  stood  Marie  in 
her  bridal  robes  ;  Charley  Orowin,  her  betrothed, 
also  in  his  bridal  suit,  closely  following. 

The  girl  was  now  composed,  but  her  face  was 
all  stained  with  her  sorrow.  Tom  never  lifted 
his  eyes.  They  were  fastened  to  the  face  of 
the  wife  he  had  wronged. 

"  I  swear  I  will  not  humble  myself,"  seemed 
written  on  every  line  of  his  countenance. 

"Come,  Marie,  darling,"  said  the  dying  wo- 
man ;  "  and,  O  Charley !  before  I  give  her  to 
you,  promise  me  —  I  won't  ask  you  to  swear 
it  —  that  you  will  be  true  to  her  as  long  as  she 
lives." 

"  I  do  solemnly  promise,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  broken  by  emotion. 

"Every  thing  is  ready,"  said  the  dying  wo- 
man, turning  her  eyes  upon  me ;  and,  at  a  ges- 
ture, I  read  the  marriage  service. 

The  scene  was  a  picture  too  painful  for  por- 
trayal. When  all  was  over,  there  was  utter 
silence ;  but  on  the  face  of  the  mother  came  a 
smile  that  seemed  to  transfigure  the  whole 
countenance.  I  never  saw  any  thing  so  beauti- 
ful, in  all  my  experiences  of  death-beds. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  163 

"  Dear,  dear  Tom  !  it's  all  right  now.  Don't 
mind  what  I  said  last  night :  I  didn't  want  to 
go  then.  I  shall  never  forget  what  you  have 
been  to  me  since  you  took  me  out  of  school, 
a  simple  child  of  fifteen.  You  were  father, 
brother,  every  thing;  and  I  thank  you,  I  bless 
you  ! " 

He  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  his  head 
buried  in  the  pillow,  within  reach  of  her  hand ; 
and  she  let  her  fingers  stray  through  the  shin- 
ing locks,  gazing  on  them  with  a  dying  pride. 

Was  the  man  not  yet  willing  to  humble  him- 
self, when  it  was  brought  home  to  him  at  last 
that  he  had  broken  her  heart  ? 

She  turned  to  me  with  a  smile,  then  looked 
at  him,  then  at  me.  It  was  a  mute  question, 
and  I  understood  it ;  but  he  had  put  himself 
beyond  my  help.  Standing  there,  I  loathed 
the  sight  of  him  as  a  Christian  man  shoufd 
not. 

After  I  had  ministered  according  to  the  rules 
of  the  Church,  and  spoken  a  few  words  of  com- 
fort, I  left  the  room.  Passing  the  parlor,  down- 
stairs, I  caught  sight  of  a  long,  shining  train, 
and  then  of  the  new  bride  weeping  on  the 
breast  of  the  new  husband. 

Sad  beginning  of  bridal  happiness  ! 

We  were  going  by,  when  the  groom  called 
my  wife. 


164  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"  Can  you  think  of  any  thing  to  comfort 
her?"  he  asked,  as  Marie  lifted  her  face  from 
his  shoulder. 

"  No,  Charley ;  nobody  can  comfort  me  ;  don't 
ask  her :  she  knows  —  the  —  cause  of  it  all ; " 
and  again  she  fell,  almost  fainting,  into  her  hus- 
band's arms.  It  was  a  terrible  lesson  to  him, 
needed  or  not. 

Presently  she  lifted  her  white  face. 

"I  wouldn't  believe  it,"  she  said;  "but  the 
doctor  says  she  has  been  dying  for  days  —  think 
of  it !  for  days  !  —  and  knowing  it  all  the  time." 

"  She  will  be  happier,  dear,"  said  Hester. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  retorted,  almost  fiercely : 
"perhaps  the  torture  will  follow  her.  It  was 
more  idolatry  than  love.  Father  has  been  her 
God  —  and  mine  too,"  she  added  bitterly,  "till 
now.  Now" — and  she  clinched  her  hands  — 
"I  hate  him!" 

"  Hush,  dear,"  said  her  husband  gently. 

She  turned  upon  him  such  a  look,  as  she 
said,  — 

"  He  has  murdered  my  mother ! " 

We  took  our  leave,  for  the  scene  was  too 
painful. 

"  Did  you  see  that  picture  was  gone  from  the 
bracket  ? "  Hester  asked. 

"  What  picture  ? " 

"  Of  that  Mrs.  Stanley !    I  can  imagine  poor 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  165 

little  Marie  snatching  it  from  its  place,  and 
grinding  it  to  pieces  under  her  feet.  I  would  !  " 

"  My  dear  Hester !  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
presence  of  death  ought  to  dispel  all  these  bale- 
ful human  passions,"  I  said. 

She  looked  up  at  me. 

"Do  you  feel  so  very  much  like  an  angel?" 
she  asked. 

"  Not  exactly,"  I  was  forced  to  reply,  with  a 
laugh ;  for  her  inimitable  expression  provoked 
it. 

"  If  you  did,  I  should  consider  you  a  sort  of 
monster,"  Hester  went  on.  "  Here  is  that 
woman  dying, — and  she  may  be  only  one  of 
many, — when  one  word  from  her  husband, 
spoken  in  time,  would  have  saved  a  beautiful 
human  soul,  and  a  home  such  as  few  men  have. 
And  he  knows  it!  I  don't  wonder  his  child 
hates  him.  O  Hal !  you  poor  boy !  I  never 
realized  before,  how  many  miserable  things  you 
are  called  to  see.  I  mean  to  be  such  a  good, 
helpful  wife  to  you !  " 

"  You  are  all  I  could  ask."  She  hugged  my 
arm,  and  I  thought  I  heard  a  sob. 

Early  in  the  morning  Mrs.  Tracy's  girl  came 
round.  We  all  knew  what  that  meant. 

"  She  died  so  sweetly,  though  she  wandered, 
miss,  toward  the  last."  We  heard  of  that  after- 
wards. 


1 66  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  Tom,  dear,  don't  put  her  shawl  on !  don't 
look  at  her  so !  If  you  knew  the  pain  that 
comes  at  my  heart  —  just  like  a  dagger  thrust 
in  and  in  !  " 

"  And  so  until  the  very  last,"  a  neighbor  said. 

Thus  endeth  this  short,  sad  record.  How 
many  husbands  whose  eyes  chance  to  read  these 
pages  would  dare  invoke  such  dying  pangs  ? 

Did  he  change  ?  I  met  him  a  few  weeks 
after.  He  was  as  cold,  as  handsome,  as  grace- 
ful as  ever.  He  did  not  have  the  audacity  to 
bow  to  me. 

They  say  he  talks  of  "  Tilly "  sometimes, 
sometimes  says  he  misses  her. 

That  is  all.  Mrs.  Stanley  has  procured  her 
divorce. 

What  next  ? 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  l6/ 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

"  So  skilfully  her  woes  proclaimed, 
You  could  not  see  her  tears,  and  keep  your  purse." 


natural  limit  of  mankind  lies  between  a 
cradle  and  a  grave." 

"  Please  don't  sermonize,"  said  Hester,  look- 
ing up  from  her  sewing. 

"  I  only  want  to  convince  your  father,  my 
dear,"  was  my  reply. 

"  But  his  hair  is  gray  ;  and,  after  all,  what  does 
it  signify  what  men  believe,  if  they  live  right  ?  " 

"  There  !  "  said  the  old  professor  triumph- 
antly :  "  my  girl  hasn't  forgotten  her  old  train- 
ing, if  she  did  marry  a  minister  !  " 

"But  I  contend  that  it  does  signify,"  I  re- 
torted. 

"  Rousseau,  about  the  middle  of  the  last  cen- 
tury (1764),  ushered  in  what  is  known  as  the 
Sentimental  Philosophy  ;  i.e.,  that  human  na- 
ture is  perfectly  good  from  the  start.  Bad 
systems  of  education,  alone,  were  answerable 
for  bad  government  and  bad  communities. 


1 68  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"One  of  Rousseau's  books  elaborates  this 
idea,  as  you  know,  on  the  plan  of  perfect  seclu- 
sion from  outside  influence,  either  of  established 
customs,  forms  of  conduct,  current  opinions,  or 
recognized  creeds  of  religion.  Sweep  these  all 
aside,  and  let  pure  nature  assert  itself  amid 
merely  pleasant  and  agreeable  surroundings, 
and  this  would  bring  a  millennium  of  natural 
goodness  that  would  captivate  the  world." 

"  Yes  :  I  like  the  old  fellow,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, stroking  his  white  beard.  "Think  he 
was  right,  too,  in  a  degree." 

"But,  my  dear  father,  this  was  the  prolific 
philosophy  of  France  amid  the  horrors  of  the 
French  Revolution,  —  a  philosophy  that  nursed 
the  idea  of  evil  as  a  necessary  outgrowth  of  prev- 
alent opinions  and  institutions,  —  a  philosophy 
that  lauded  the  high  character  of  human  nature 
for  itself  alone,  that  made  its  own  religion,  in 
which  mankind  was  the  chief  deity  to  be 
worshipped,  in  which  all  divisions  of  race, 
class-interest,  language,  climate,  association, 
disappeared,  and  one  scheme  of  universal  love 
embraced  all  mankind,  as  one  people  under  one 
law.  Such  a  philosophy  was  capable  of  insti- 
tuting a  reign  of  terror  by  exciting  the  worst 
elements  of  society  into  war  against  the  inva- 
ders of  their  common  rights,  who  guided  the  na- 
tion, and  fostered  those  symptoms  of  religion 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  169 

and  education  which  moulded  and  influenced 
the  rising  generation  of  the  land. 

"  Such  a  philosophy,"  I  continued,  not  allow- 
ing the  professor  to  interrupt,  while  Hester  held 
up  both  hands  in  mock  supplication,  "  has  been 
the  prolific  mother  of  the  dreaded  Commune, 
and  the  more  stubborn  children  of  Nihilism.  It 
is  the  patron  of  the  dynamite  fiend.  Take  away 
from  life  its  safeguard  of  discipline  and  order,  its 
sufferings  and  its  sorrows,  its  struggles  and  its 
labors,  and  nature  would  sink  into  ruin  and  dev- 
astation. Somebody  says,  'That  which  keeps 
men  patient  under  the  evil  of  this  present  state 
of  things,  is  the  idea  of  their  necessity,  the  no- 
tion, indistinct,  but  still  real  in  their  minds,  that 
injustice  and  disorder  are  fundamental  in  this 
visible  system  of  our  life.  We  must  be  made 
perfect  through  suffering." 

"  Please  keep  your  exhortations  for  the  chan- 
cel," said  Hester,  laughing  and  frowning.  "You 
can't  make  me  believe  that  poor  Mrs.  Tracy  was 
destined  to  surfer  in  the  way  she  did,  from  all 
eternity." 

"  That  involves  another  view  -of  the  case," 
said  I,  as  the  door  opened. 

"O  Mr.  Ravaillac!"  cried  Hester,  "I'm  so 
thankful  you  have  come !  You  have  saved  us 
from  a  twenty-minutes'  sermon." 

The  professor  arose,  made  a  formal  bow,  pro- 


I/O  TELL   YOUR    WIFE. 

tested  he  had  finished  his  pipe,  and  left  the 
house.  He  had  just  come  over  to  ask  Hester 
to  call  at  her  old  home  that  evening,  as  her 
mother  was  not  feeling  well  ;  and  he  did  not 
like  monsieur. 

Ravaillac  always  seemed  to  bring  with  him  a 
wave  from  some  superior  region,  where  people 
never  did  ordinary  work,  or  thought  ordinary, 
thoughts.  Trim,  elegant,  modest,  he  was  the 
picture  of  a  modern  Apollo,  faultlessly  dressed. 
His  ardent,  sanguine  temperament  always  gave 
one  the  impression  that  he  was  at  peace  with 
himself  and  all  the  world. 

For  some  reason, — no  doubt,  the  little  tablet 
that  I  had  locked  in  my  study  sufficiently  ex- 
plained it,  —  I  had  felt  towards  him,  since  read- 
ing them,  an  instinctive  antagonism ;  and  he 
knew  it.  I  could  see,  by  the  rapid  side-glances 
he  cast  towards  me  now  and  then,  that  he  was 
aware  of  the  change  in  my  feelings ;  but  there 
he  stood,  handsome,  and  smiling  around  at  us 
all. 

Presently  the  door  opened  ;  and  Dolly's  radi- 
ant face,  framed  in  some  creamy  lace-work,  — 
or  it  might  be  wool,  — broke  in  upon  the  silence. 
How  transcendently  beautiful  she  looked,  in  her 
pretty  opera-wraps  !  I  could  not  fail  to  perceive 
that  the  glance  with  which  he  turned  to  her  was 
genuine  worship.  Was  I  allowing  this  thing  to 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  I /I 

go  too  far  ?  I  watched  him  dexterously  unfold- 
ing her  fleecy  shawl,  so  that  its  texture  might 
catch  the  warmth  of  the  fire  before  he  placed  it 
over  her  shoulders.  And  her  face !  was  it  not 
an  index  of  a  rare,  true  love  ? 

"  Very  strange,"  I  said,  when  they  had  gone, 
and  Hester  and  I  had  the  cosey  room  all  to  our- 
selves, "that  fellow  does  not  get  his  references 
from  Paris.  It  is  now  three  months,  and  he  has 
done  nothing  but  promise." 

"That  fellow!"  exclaimed  Hester  with  em- 
phasis, looking  her  surprise. 

"Well,  candidly,  I  do  not  like  his  dilly-dally- 
ing with  serious  matters.  He  tells  a  tolerably 
straight  story,  but  how  are  we  to  know  ?  It 
would  be  foolish  indeed  to  rely  upon  his  mere 
say-so." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Hester  thoughtfully;  "and 
yet  there  is  such  an  air  of  sincerity  in  all  he 
does  and  says,  that  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me 
persist  in  doubting  him." 

"  Persist ! " 

"Well,  I  have  had  my  doubts,"  Hester  went 
on,  smiling  to  herself ;  "  but  it  seems  to  me 
Nature  has  set  her  sign-manual  on  him  as  a 
prince.  He  certainly  has  a  splendid  position. 
Mr.  Whitby  trusts  him  with  the  most  intricate 
matters  of  business,  and  is  really  going  to  send 
him  to  Paris  on  his  wedding-trip." 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 


"  His  wedding-trip  !  Good  Heavens  !  what  is 
Dolly  thinking  of  ?  Is  the  time  set  ?  " 

"  Why,  not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Hester.  "  I 
mean,  whenever  it  is  to  be,  of  course.  I  think 
they  are  not  yet  engaged.  Dolly  has  told  him 
that  he  must  come  to  you." 

"  I  am  glad  Dolly  is  so  sensible,"  I  said,  draw- 
ing a  long  breath.  "  Yes,  yes  —  that  will  be 
time  enough." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Hester  asked. 

"I  mean,  to  speak  plainly  about  his  refer- 
ences, and  his  means  for  insuring  Dolly  a 
home." 

"  Oh  !  there's  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  on 
that  score,"  said  Hester.  "He  can  stay  with 
the  Whitbys  forever.  Indeed,  I  think  they 
would  have  been  glad  enough  to  secure  him  for 
Fanny  Whitby,  if  he  would  only  have  waited 
till  the  child  was  older.  Fanny  is  but  fifteen. 
I  never  dreamed  of  his  falling  in  love  with 
Dolly." 

"  But  sometimes  these  great  business-houses 
fail,  you  know." 

"  Oh  !  there  are  plenty  who  want  him.  In 
fact,  he  is  invaluable  as  an  assistant  and  trans- 
lator, and  need  never  be  out  of  business.  Be- 
sides, he  has  splendid  expectations  ;  and  I  have 
seen  the  letters  sent  by  his  lawyers,  in  which 
they  say  he  is  sure  to  win  his  case." 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  1/3 

"What  case?" 

"  Hasn't  Dolly  told  you  ?  Why,  some  of  the 
estates,  confiscated  in  the  late  war,  are  to  be 
restored  to  his  family.  Oh,  yes !  I  am  French 
scholar  enough  to  translate  fairly,  and  it  is  very 
plain  that  he  is  to  be  compensated  at  the  rate 
of  a  round  million.  It  seems  as  if  Dolly  must 
be  pretty  safe  in  the  matter  of  provision  for  her 
future.  And  then,  he  certainly  is  a  lovable 
fellow !  As  for  Dolly,  you  can  see  for  yourself, 
she  worships  him  as  much  as  he  worships  her." 

"  Yes,  and  so  much  the  worse  if  he  be  proved 
a  scoundrel,"  I  said. 

"  Why  do  you  talk  that  way  ?  what  have  you 
heard  ?  "  asked  Hester  anxiously. 

"  Nothing,  upon  my  honor  :  no  one  has  spoken 
a  word  to  his  disadvantage.  On  the  contrary, 
everybody  speaks  in  his  praise.  But  I  want 
stronger  proof  than  his  mere  assertion.  I  can- 
not give  my  sister's  happiness  in  the  keeping 
of  a  stranger,  and  that  stranger  a  foreigner, 
unless  I  have  something  more  decisive.  What 
about  his  sister  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Poor  fellow !  he  is  very  much  worried. 
Since  her  fall  from  her  horse,  she  has  been  con- 
fined to  her  bed  ;  and  the  last  news  was,  that 
her  life  was  in  danger." 

"He  seems  going  to  the  opera  pretty  lively  for 
a  man  whose  only  sister  may  be  dying,"  I  said. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 


Hester  paused. 

"  I  think  this  must  have  been  an  engagement 
made  some  time  ago,"  she  said.  "  Besides,  he 
don't  know  but  she  may  be  out  of  danger.  Why 
should  he  spoil  Dolly's  pleasure  ?  " 

"Why,  indeed?"  and  there  the  matter 
dropped  where  it  should  not.  It  was  on  my 
tongue  to  speak  of  the  tablet,  even  to  display 
it  to  my  wife,  and  set  her  keen,  quick  intel- 
lect on  the  scent  ;  but  a  strange  perversity  con- 
trolled me.  I  knew  it  would  be  safe,  a  proof  of 
my  trust  in  her,  a  pleasure  to  be  of  any  assist- 
ance to  me  ;  and  yet  I  shrank  from  taking  her 
into  my  confidence. 

Still,  the  matter  nettled  me  ;  and  the  man, 
while  he  attracted,  at  the  same  time  repelled 
me.  What  were  all  his  accomplishments  if  no 
truth  dwelt  on  his  tongue  ?  How  could  I  trust 
Dolly  to  a  man  who  could  willingly  invent  a 
story  to  lie  and  deceive  ?  And  that  Dolly  loved 
him  with  all  the  strength  of  her  young,  pure 
heart,  I  knew.  My  doubts  angered  her  :  she 
defended  him  against  all  accusations. 

"And  now  I-  am  going  over  to  mother's," 
said  Hester,  rising. 

I  rose  too. 

"  No,  Hal  :  sit  down.  You  seldom  have  a 
quiet  evening  to  yourself,  and  Jenkins  is  doing 
nothing  but  nodding  at  the  kitchen-fire.  I  will 
take  him." 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  1/5 

"  But  really,  don't  you  care  ? "  I  queried. 

"  Not  a  bit.  You  can't  probably  see  mother ; 
very  likely  Miriam  is  with  her,  and  wouldn't  go 
down-stairs  ;  and  you'd  have  nobody  to  talk  to. 
So  sit  down,  and  be  a  good  boy  till  I  come 
back." 

She  looked  laughingly  over  her  shoulder  at 
me  as  she  started  for  her  wraps  ;  and  presently 
she  came  to  kiss  me  good-by,  fully  equipped. 

"  There  goes  that  horrible  bell  again  !  Why 
won't  they  let  you  have  a  little  peace  of  your 
life  !  It  does  seem  as  if  your  evenings  ought  to 
belong  to  you  !  "  Hester  exclaimed. 

Jenkins  opened  the  door,  ushering  in  a  young 
lady,  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion.  Her 
bold,  bright  black  eyes  sparkled  at  sight  of  me. 

"  Well !  it  is  really  delightful  to  find  one  cler- 
gyman at  home  !  "  she  said,  with  a  lovely  smile, 
that  displayed  fine,  even  white  teeth. 

"Pray IDC  seated,  miss,"  I  said.  "Hester,  I 
will  see  you  to  the  door,  and  call  for  you  in  half 
an  hour." 

I  went  out  with  my  wife. 

"  Hal,"  she  whispered,  "  I  never  saw  such  an 
impudent  face  in  my  life  !  Beware  of  her." 

"  I  promise  she  shall  not  carry  me  off  bodily," 
was  my  reply,  laughing. 

"  Oh  !  I'm  not  afraid  of  that ;  she  don't  want 
you;  she's  after  your  pocket-book,"  Hester  said. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 


"  I  didn't  count  upon  it,  but  perhaps  you  might 
as  well  come  for  me  ;  "  and  she  was  gone. 

I  went  back  to  my  strange  visitor. 

"Ah!  this  looks  so  like  my  own  old  home," 
she  said,  as  I  found  her  comfortably  seated  op- 
posite the  fire.  "  My  poor  papa  was  a  clergy- 
man. You  have  heard  of  Dean  McKatheron  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  have  !  Was  he  your  father  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Yes  ;  he  died  five  years  ago  :  and  the  Rev. 
Mr.  McKatheron,  rector  of  All  Souls,  is  my  own 
cousin.  I  went  to  his  house  at  first,  but  found 
him  away  with  his  family." 

I  knew  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  McKatheron  had 
gone  abroad.  Never  stopped  to  wonder  why 
she  had  not  been  made  aware  of  his  absence. 

"  And  then  I  called  on  the  rector  of  the  As- 
cension, but  he  and  his  wife  had  gone  to  visit  a 
parishioner  out  of  town.  Oh,  dear  !  and  I  was 
so  tired  !  Do  you  believe,  I  went  the  rounds  of 
all  the  clergymen  before  I  came  here  ?  I  never 
dreamed  I  should  find  you  at  home." 

She  took  a  dainty  lace  kerchief  out  of  her 
reticule,  and  a  subtle  odor  was  wafted  through 
the  room.  I  am  very  sensitive  in  the  matter 
of  perfumes,  but  this  fragrance  seemed  a  part 
of  her  aristocratic  presence. 

"  Oh  !  I  suppose  I  must  tell  you  my  story," 
she  continued.  "  It  is  so  stupid  —  well,  so  com- 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  1 77 

monplace,  to  have  a  story  to  tell !  but  really,  I 
think  you  will  pardon  me.  I  came  here,  not  in- 
tending to  stay  more  than  a  few  days,  and  only 
brought  a  hundred  dollars  with  me.  How  I 
lost  the  money,  whether  it  was  taken  out  of  my 
pocket,  or  I  left  it  in  the  car,  I  am  totally  un- 
able to  tell.  I  think,  however,  my  pocket  was 
picked ;  for,  when  I  went  to  pay  the  coachman, 
my  purse  was  gone.  It's  very  humiliating  to 
have  to  go  to  a  hotel  without  money  ;  so  I  hur- 
ried to  my  cousin's  house,  to  find  it  shut  up.  I 
thought  if  I  could  borrow  fifty  dollars,  or  even 
twenty,  to  pay  my  hotel-bills  and  my  fare  back 
—  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  if  I  can't." 

She  crossed  her  delicately  kidded  hands  on 
her  knees.  The  firelight  brought  out  the  curves 
and  tints  of  a  very  beautiful  face  ;  but  the  small 
red  lips  began  to  tremble,  and  I  saw  the  tears 
gather  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  will  have  to  stay  at  the  hotel  to-night, 
I  suppose,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  and  I  forgot  to  say  that  I  can  leave 
security,"  she  added,  suddenly  starting  from  her 
pose  of  deep  dejection.  "  I  have  my  diamond 
ring  with  me,  —  the  last  gift  of  my  dear  father. 
I  should  insist  upon  leaving  it." 

"No,  indeed!  If  I  had  the  money,"  I  fal- 
tered, having  before  me  the  memory  of  the  score 
of  times  I  had  been  made  the  victim  of  merce- 


1/8  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

nary  callers,  "you  should  have  it  in  a  moment. 
But  I  think  "  —  I  took  a  small  roll  of  bills  from 
my  pocket.  It  amounted  to  just  nine  dollars 
and  fifty  cents. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  I  said,  pondering  the 
matter  as  I  held  the  money  in  my  hands.  "  I  "  — 

"  O  sir  !  "  and  the  small  figure  drew  up,  while 
a  proud  gesture  and  a  sad,  resigned  expression 
stole  over  the  perfect  face.  "  I  see  that  you 
doubt  me,  sir,  and  I  cannot  bear  that.  Keep 
your  money,  sir,  for  what  you  may  consider  a 
worthier  object.  I  do  not  ask  charity  :  I  simply 
wanted  a  loan  !  Pray  excuse  me  for  this  intru- 
sion. I  will  go  elsewhere.  I  could  not  allow 
you  to  assist  me  now." 

That  settled  it.  If  the  reader  should  happen 
to  be  a  man,  and  had  been  in  my  place,  it  would 
have  settled  him.  If  Hester  had  been  there, 
she  would  have  screwed  her  courage  up,  and  — 
let  her  go. 

"  I  beg  you  will  allow  me  to  loan  you  this,"  I 
said.  "  I  only  hesitated  as  the  sum  was  to  be 
applied  to  a  particular  object,  but  I  shall  make 
it  up  immediately.  Pray,  miss,  oblige  me  by 
borrowing  this  trifling  sum.  I  only  wish  it  were 
more." 

My  beautiful  visitor  flushed,  hesitated,  bit 
her  lip,  and,  after  a  pretty  bit  of  hesitancy, 
condescended  to  retract.  She  looked  at  the 


TELL   YOUR    WIFE.  1 79 

money,  and  gently  drew  off  her  glove.  A  dia- 
mond solitaire  sparkled  on  one  of  her  slender 
fingers. 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  consent  to  this,"  I  said,  as 
she  held  it  out. 

"And  I  will  not  take  the  money  without 
leaving  my  pledge,"  she  answered,  with  her 
very  bright  smile.  "So  there  it  is." 

Absolutely,  I  never  felt  so  mean  in  my 
life.  Here  was  the  daughter  of  a  prominent 
clergyman,  whose  death  had  been  so  sincerely 
mourned,  leaving  his  gift  with  me  as  if  I  had 
been  a  pawnbroker.  But  what  could  I  do  ?  She 
persisted,  until  at  last  I  was  forced  to  relent. 

"  Oh,  you  can't  realize  how  good  you  have 
been  to  me ! "  she  said,  with  her  beaming  smile. 
"  Think  if  I  had  gone  to  a  hotel,  how  terrible  it 
would  have  been  to  be  denied  admission  !  And, 
of  course,  they  don't  know  me ;  and  cousin 
John,  my  only  living  relative  in  the  city,  not 
here  to  testify  for  me.  I  really  do  not  know 
how  to  thank  you." 

She  bowed  herself  out  of  the  room  with  an 
exquisite  air  of  refinement,  leaving  the  vision 
of  a  perfect  face  in  sunshine  and  in  shade,  to 
haunt  me. 

"  Had  I  been  wise,  or  foolish  ? " 

Hester  came  home  just  as  I  was  about  to 
start  for  her. 


ISO  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"Poor  mamma  was  asleep,  so  I  did  not  stay," 
she  said.  "  Now,  what  of  your  visitor  ?  She 
certainly  was  pretty,  but  dreadfully  brazen. 
What  did  you  give  her?" 

"  I  gave  her  nothing,  my  dear." 

"  Oh  !  I  am  glad  you  are  beginning  to  find"  — 

"  But  I  lent  her  a  small  sum,"  and  I  felt  my 
cheeks  burn.  "  It  was  ridiculously  small  for 
the  equivalent  she  would  insist  upon  my  taking. 
See  this !  " 

"  Oh  !  a  diamond  ! "  exclaimed  my  wife. 

She  took  it.  I  grew  in  stature  and  wisdom  at 
once.  She  carried  it  under  the  light — turned 
it  round  —  smiled. 

"Well,  madam,  what  do  you  think  now?"  I 
asked  triumphantly. 

"  I  think  you  are  an  awful  goose  !  "  said  Hes- 
ter, bursting  into  a  laugh,  "a  dear,  old,  soft- 
hearted goose  !  But  then,  how  could  you  know  ? 
Now,  you  have  often  laughed  at  what  you  call 
my  instinct.  Why,  Hal,  dear,  she  wouldn't  have 
dared  to  give  that  ring  into  my  fingers.  See 
here :  it  never  cost  fifty  cents.  Diamond !  ha,  ha ! 
it's  a  miserable  piece  of  glass,  though  prettily 
cut.  Well,  you  /lavebzen  duped  !  You'll  never 
see  her  again." 

I  told  her  the  whole  story. 

"If  I  had  been  here,"  she  said,  "that  minx 
would  have  gone  as  empty-handed  as  she  came. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  l8l 

I  know  my  heart  isn't  as  big  as  yours,  but  I've 
got  an  awful  bump  of  incredulity." 

Later  I  found  that  Hester's  decision  was 
correct.  Out  of  the  twenty  clergymen  in  the 
city,  fifteen  or  sixteen  had  been  duped  by  this 
bogus  daughter  of  a  royal  line. 

"  She  enlisted  my  sympathies  at  once,"  said 
the  Rev.  Doctor  Cutler,  a  Methodist  minister, 
"  by  presenting  herself  as  the  niece  of  our  late 
lamented  bishop.  I  lent  her  twenty  dollars ; 
and  she  left  with  me  a  valuable  agate  ring,  she 
said,  and  which,  I  suppose,  is  no  more  an  agate 
than  yours  is  a  diamond.  She  will  probably 
get  out  of  the  city  in  some  disguise,  and  so 
evade  justice.  No  man  should  allow  himself  to 
be  taken  by  surprise  ;  but  we  clergymen,  as  a 
rule,  are  shamefully  easy  to  dupe.  But  then, 
what  can  one  do  ?  Must  we  steel  our  hearts  to 
every  tale  of  suffering,  or  rate  our  charities  ac- 
cording to  the  personal  charms  of  the  recipients  ? 
I  confess  I  don't  know  how  to  solve  the  prob- 
lem." 

Neither  do  I. 


1 82  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

"  And  in  her  eyes  was  something  strange, 
A  look  as  of  another  world." 

THE  warm  June  days  had  come,  with  glowing 
sunshine  and  tender  shadow.  The  peach- 
trees  in  the  rectory-yard  were  all  abloom  with 
that  fresh  pink  tinge  that  one  sees  only  in  the 
heart  of  a  living  conch  shell,  and  that  trembles, 
now  into  fainter,  now  into  deeper,  beauty,  as  the 
outer  light  encircles  it. 

My  cares  seemed  to  accumulate  as  the  warm 
weather  approached.  The  professor's  wife,  now 
a  helpless  invalid,  required  the  presence  of  Hes- 
ter so  often,  that  it  was  useless  to  think  of 
taking  the  customary  vacation.  My  special  and 
particular  bore,  Mrs.  Dickory,  found  it  conven- 
ient to  make  a  great  many  calls.  She  had  lately 
become  the  mother  of  the  eighth,  as  she  proudly 
called  her  last  achievement  in  maternity,  and 
was  correspondingly  communicative  and  confi- 
dential as  to  her  family  affairs.  If  the  paternal 
head  of  the  house  of  Dickory  volunteered  ad- 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  183 

vice  after  the  manner  of  tyrannical  husbands 
inclined  to  take  a  drop  too  much,  she  came  to 
me  with  the  grievance.  Her  utter  indifference 
to  my  intimations  that  my  time  was  too  valu- 
able to  be  taken  up  with  such  trivialities,  broad- 
ened the  comedy  of  her  confessions,  until,  when 
I  saw  the  flaming  red  or  yellow  or  green  of  her 
much  ornamented  head-gear,  I  involuntarily  took 
up  either  a  book  or  my  pen,  and  let  her  gabble 
on,  if  I  could  not  escape  in  time  through  the 
back  door. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  bring  my  Dolce  for  baptiserm 
nex'  sabbath,"  she  said  one  day  :  "  but  she's  an 
awful  one  to  hold,  an'  she  hates  water  like 
pizen  ;  so  if  you'd  please  be  kerful  'n  not  let 
the  drops  run  over  her  nose, — which  is  her 
sensitivest  part,  being  as  she  has  had  a  cold 
ever  sence  being  born,  —  it  will  keep  her  more 
quieter." 

"  What'  did  you  say  the  name  was  ? "  I  asked, 
forgetting  myself,  and  looking  up  from  my  book. 

"  Dolce.  Dickory  called  me  a  heathen  :  he 
hain't  got  no  imagination,  nor  what  I  call  fine 
feelin's.  Fer  a  man  as  has  lived  with  me  now 
goin'  on  fifteen  years,  —  well,  I  were  married  at 
fourteen,  so  I'm  not  in  my  thirties  yet,  — I  must 
say  he  is  as  destitute  of  idolatry  as  if  he  had 
been  in  daily  companionship  with  a  woman  as 
thinks  scrubbing  is  her  only  vocation,  and  what 


184  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

she  were  born  to.  You  mightn't  think  it,  but 
I  hcv  writ  poetry ;  and,  if  my  fambly  was  smaller, 
I  should  contribute  occasionally,  I  don't  doubt." 

"  But  where  did  you  get  the  name  ? "  I  asked, 
much  amused.  Her  husband's  idolatry,  which 
she  supposed  to  mean  ideality,  corresponded  so 
aptly  to  the  terrible  name  she  intended  to  fasten 
on  her  helpless  offspring,  that  it  fixed  itself  in 
my  memory  as  a  standing  anecdote. 

"  Why,  I've  seen  it  in  singing-books  like  this, 
and  in  books  of  stories  : "  she  handed  me  a  slip 
of  paper,  on  which  was  written  in  a  coarse  hand, 
"  Dolce  far  niente" 

"It  kinder  took  my  fancy,"  she  said,  "and  I 
do  like  originality  : "  this  word  she  pronounced 
with  the  g  hard.  "Only,  I  thought  I  would 
change  it  a  little,  and  call  her  Dolce  Fanny  Ni- 
ente  :  the  whole  name  kinder  sounds  so  foreign- 
like,  and  I'm  tired  of  the  usual  stock." 

"  My  good  woman,  that's  no  name  at  all,"  I 
said :  "  it  is  merely  suggestive  of  a  person  too 
lazy  to  keep  awake.  You  wouldn't  subject 
your  child  to  such  a  burden.  Everybody  would 
laugh.  Call  her  Fanny,  or  Dora,  or  something 
understandable,  or  else  I  can't  baptize  your 
child." 

"Then,  I've  got  to  give  in  to  Dickory,"  she 
said,  looking  meditative;  "and  it's  what  I've 
never  did  yet.  But  I  know  how  to  git  over  that 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  185 

— you  shall  give  it  a  name,  and  I'll  be  honored 
and  evermore  obliged." 

"  No,  no  :  I  would  not  take  the  responsibility," 
I  said  hastily.  "  Choose  between  you  "  — 

"I  think  you  said  Fanny  or  Dora,"  she  re- 
sponded complacently.  "  Don't  you  see  you've 
already  done  it  ?  I'll  call  her  Fanny,  and  much 
obliged,  I'm  sure." 

"You  may  call  her  Methuselah,  for  all  I 
care,"  I  said,  feeling  my  long-suffering  patience 
oozing  out  at  my  finger's-ends,  as  I  rose.  "  I've 
got  an  appointment,  and  you  must  excuse  me." 

"Them  pants  is  reely  going  at  the  knees: 
how  beautifully  Dickory  could  fit  you !  "  was 
the  quiet  rejoinder,  with  a  good-natured  smile. 
Then  she  took  a  hair-pin  out  of  her  back  hair, 
and  fastened  a  straggling  lock  on  her  forehead, 
looked  in  my  glass  with  a  perfectly  complacent 
face,  while  I  stood  quivering  with  anger,  with 
my  hand* on  the  back  of  my  chair,  adjusted  her 
cotton  gloves,  looked  herself  all  over  admir- 
ingly, wished  me  good-morning,  and  walked  out 
of  the  study  with  the  air  of  an  empress. 

The  woman's  vanity  was  astonishing,  nay,  it 
reached  the  point  of  sublimity,  as  she  regally 
turned,  came  back,  and  asked  for  a  drink  of 
water,  and  languishingly  drank  it,  looking  at 
me.  Then  with  a  soft  sigh,  and  a  tragic  shake 
of  the  head,  as  if  she  were  the  victim  of  untold 
sorrows,  she  departed. 


1 86  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

On  such  occasions  I  despised  myself  heartily 
for  the  restraint  I  was  forced  to  put  upon  my 
temper.  Clergyman  as  I  was,  it  would  have 
been  an  immense  satisfaction  if  I  could  have 
taken  her  by  the  shoulders,  and  put  her  bodily 
out  of  the  place,  with  an  injunction  to  her  to 
go,  and  come  no  more.  But  what  could  I  do  ? 
she  was  a  member  of  my  church,  in  good  stand- 
ing. 

What  could  I  do  with  such  people  as  the 
Eddys,  who  were  starving  themselves,  and 
wronging  their  poor,  crippled  boy  by  denying 
him  the  education  he  craved,  and  the  art-sur- 
roundings, the  outside  education  of  the  senses 
coming  from  things  graceful  and  beautiful  to 
the  eye  ?  —  so  craving  them  that  it  was  pitiful 
to  see  the  bare  walls,  all  cracked  and  crum- 
bling, ornamented  with  such  pictures  as  the 
poor  lad  could  find  in  odd  numbers  of  papers 
and  magazines,  coarse  daubs  colored  by  home- 
made pigments,  and  now  and  then  a  bit  of  china 
suggestive  of  costlier  bric-a-brac.  They  also 
were  members  of  the  church  ;  and,  say  what  you 
will,  such  personal  idiosyncrasies  are  seldom 
touched  by  the  pulpit.  Ay,  be  plain  as  you 
dare  be,  even  to  the  verge  of  naming  and  point- 
ing out  the  culprits,  and  they  will  meet  you 
with  the  sweetest,  most  debonair  smiles,  and 
thank  you  for  your  "splendid  sermon  !  " 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  l8/ 

What  good  did  all  my  preaching  do  Tom 
Tracy  ?  His  impertinently  beautiful  face  never 
moved  a  muscle.  Did  he  believe  I  meant  him  ? 
God  knows.  There  were  two  or  three  other 
somewhat  public  targets  in  the  congregation  — 
a  hundred  for  all  I  could  tell.  Perhaps  my 
shots  were  meant  for  them.  At  all  events,  the 
men  I  did  mean  them  for  never  flinched.  Did 
I  not  know,  that  before  me  sat,  Sunday  after 
Sunday,  rich  men  who  rejoiced  in  their  riches, 
who  surrounded  themselves  with  their  panoply 
of  wealth,  and  never  gave  to  the  poor,  seldom 
to  missions,  and  only  now  and  then  to  some 
popular  charity,  that  their  names  might  be 
sounded  abroad  ?  Was  I  not  fully  conscious, 
as  in  the  case  of  Tom  Tracy,  that  gossip  told 
strange  stories  concerning  this  and  that  digni- 
tary, and  that  gossip  had  the  truth  to  fall  back 
upon  ?  Was  it  a  pleasant  fact  for  me  to  be  well 
aware  that  some  of  my  members,  conspicuous 
for  active  work  in  the  church,  owned  places  so 
disreputable  that  it  were  a  sin  to  name,  and 
gathered  in  their  heavy  rents  from  such  foul 
sources  to  throw  into  the  Lord's  treasury  ?  Did 
I  tell  my  wife  that  I  was  going  to  write  thus 
broadly  concerning  my  colleagues?  No  —  or 
this  book  perhaps  had  not  been  written. 

As  it  is,  I  have  said  what  I  have,  to  prove 
how  hard  it  is  for  the  most  painstaking,  ay,  or 


1 88  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

the  most  eloquent,  of  God's  messengers,  to  cor- 
rect an  error,  or  convict  the  human  heart  of 
evil.  What  good  may  be  done  eventually,  — 
what  phase  of  existence  may  be  reached,  in 
which  the  sleepy  soul  may  arouse  and  remem- 
ber, and  perhaps  reform,  —  who  can  tell  ?  I  do 
not  detract  from  my  calling.  It  is  glorious  ; 
and,  if  the  reward  comes  not  till  hereafter,  it  is 
all  we  have,  or  ought  to  have,  a  right  to  expect. 

I  seldom  saw  Miriam,  even  at  the  house  of 
my  wife's  mother.  Hester  was  overflowing 
with  admiration  for  her :  her  executive  ability, 
her  fitness  for  the  sick-room,  her  tenderness,  of 
these  she  was  always  talking.  Marguerite  was 
now  almost  installed  in  the  rectory.  Beautiful 
as  she  was,  and  winning  in  a  high  degree,  there 
was  something  repulsive  to  me  about  the  child. 
Her  habitual  reference  to  her  dead  mother  an- 
noyed me.  I  could  not  reason  her  out  of  the 
hallucination  that  she  saw  her  almost  constantly, 
talked  with,  was  advised  by  her.  The  delicate 
dignity  with  which  the  child  refuted  my  reason- 
ing, sometimes  awed  me ;  and  the  interpretation 
that  she  put  upon  my  explanations  was  often 
beyond  her  years,  and  gave  her  a  weird  kind  of 
pre-eminence  over  other  children  of  her  age,  by 
whom  I  was  surrounded. 

I  shall  never  forget  one  starry  night  when 
her  prescience  was  something  startling  and  won- 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  189 

derful,  but  which  I  attribute  to  an  extraordinary 
gift  of  sympathy,  with  perhaps  the  aid  of  a  clair- 
voyant quality  of  the  mind. 

Dolly  had  gone  to  a  concert  with  Ravaillac. 
Hester  was  lying  on  the  sofa  after  a  visit  to  her 
mother,  whom  she  had  left  much  better,  every 
way,  than  she  had  been  for  weeks. 

"Now  I'm  going  to  nurse  myself  a  little," 
she  said.  "  I  have  a  fearful  headache.  Come, 
Marguerite;  lay  your  cool  little  fingers  on  my 
forehead  :  you  always  help  me." 

The  child  was  reading  in  a  collection  of 
stories  which  I  had  bought  for  her  the  Christ- 
mas before ;  but  she  left  her  book  at  once,  and 
seated  herself  beside  Hester.  I  remember  how 
uneasy  I  felt,  a  trifle  jealous  perhaps,  that  of 
late  she  seemed  to  have  taken  my  place ;  but 
Hester  brightened  at  once,  and  became  commu- 
nicative. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Marie  Tracy  that  was," 
she  said,  after  a  few  moments;  "and  I  judge 
she  is  very  happy.  She  is  in  Florence,  she  and 
her  husband,  or  were  when  she  wrote  ;  and  one 
would  think  her  an  old  Florentine,  from  the  way 
she  mentions  all  the  grand  old  places  I  remem- 
ber so  well,  —  Ponte  Vecchio,  San  Martino,  San 
Marco,  the  Porte  Romana,  and  the  Trinita.  It 
seems  but  yesterday  that  we  were  there ;  and,  if 
you  had  only  been  with  me,  my  happiness  would 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 


have  been  complete,"  she  adds,  looking  over  at 
me  with  beaming  eyes. 

I  smile  ;  but  my  glance  is  arrested  by  Margue- 
rite, who  seems  looking  at  the  clock,  and  yet 
beyond  it.  What  is  it  that  makes  the  large  dark 
eyes  dilate  and  deepen,  and  the  whole  exquisite 
face,  delicate  as  a  star,  perfect  as  a  dream  of 
paradise,  glow  with  a  rapt,  inspired  expression  ? 

The  child  turns,  and  glances  at  me,  and  I  am 
chilled  to  the  heart  :  I  cannot  tell  why.  If  I 
could  escape  from  her,  I  would.  I  bethink  me 
of  some  unfinished  work  in  the  study  ;  and,  beg- 
ging Hester  to  excuse  me  for  a  few  moments,  I 
retire  thither. 

Jenkins  confronts  me,  combing  his  long  hair 
with  his  fingers  by  the  fire.  I  am  glad  he  is 
there,  for  the  gas  is  out. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  shut  up,"  he  says.  Jen- 
kins always  speaks  as  if  my  study  were  a  shop. 
He  lights  the  gas,  and  goes  out.  I  want  him 
to  stay,  but  am  ashamed  to  say  so  ;  and  I  sit 
down  to  my  neglected  correspondence,  much 
like  a  culprit  whose  sin  is  ever  before  him.  But 
I  find  I  cannot  write.  Something  oppresses  me 
—  something  stays  cold  at  my  heart.  I  look 
round  on  the  old  familiar  backs  of  my  books. 
Here  is  a  treatise  on  philosophy,  three  centuries 
old.  My  father  bought  it  in  London  at  a  great 
book-sale.  It  is  filled  with  curious  plates,  some 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  IQI 

of  which  I  seem  to  see  *  through  the  covers. 
They  are  not  all  pleasant  pictures,  nor  graven 
in  the  highest  style  of  art. 

Presently  there  is  a  knock  at  the  door.  I 
shiver  as  Marguerite  presents  herself,  a  lumi- 
nous picture,  apparently  evolved  out  of  the 
darkness.  Before  the  door  is  shut,  I  catch 
sight  of  a  cluster  of  stars. 

"  I  didn't  like  to  tell  cousin  Hester,"  the 
child  —  child  or  demon  ?  —  says,  leaning  on  the 
wide  arm  of  my  chair,  and  looking  into  my  face, 
while  I  shiver  at  her  near  proximity. 

"  Why,  what  have  you  to  tell  ?  "  I  ask  sharply, 
conscious  of  my  injustice  in  harboring  such 
feelings. 

"Aunt  Harriette  is  dead!" 

A  breath  from  the  unseen  seemed  touching 
my  cheek  as  she  spoke. 

I  started  from  my  chair. 

"  What  "do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked  sharply,  so 
sharply  that  she  fell  back  a  few  paces  from  me, 
and  looked  grieved. 

"But,  my  dear,  you  know  it  must  be  non- 
sense," I  said,  with  an  attempt  at  kindness. 
"  Hester  was  there  less  than  an  hour  ago,  and 
she  brought  back  the  news  that  Mrs.  Vaughan 
was  better  than  she  had  been  for  a  long  time." 

"I  know  it;  but  I  saw  mamma,  and  she  told 
me." 


I Q2  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

I  clinched  my  hands,  the  feeling  of  anger 
came  over  me  so  suddenly. 

"  I  have  told  you  a  thousand  times  that  you 
were  mistaken  "  — 

Some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  I  opened  it. 
John,  the  professor's  man-of-all-work,  stood 
there. 

I  knew  what  he  would  say  before  he  opened  his 
lips,  but  I  fought  against  the  conviction.  That 
steadfast  gaze  of  Marguerite  had  explained  it  all, 
unwilling  as  I  should  have  been  to  confess  it. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  John  ? "  The  great,  dusky 
vault  of  heaven  glittering  with  its  countless 
stars  seemed  so  near  that  I  might  have  touched 
it  with  my  hand. 

"  It's  bad  news,  sir.  Professor  says  you  must 
break  it  to  Miss  Hester.  The  madam  died 
sitting  up,  'fore  they  could  git  her  into  bed, 
about  half  an  hour  ago.  It  just  fell  like  a  thun- 
der-clap, it  was  so  onlooked  for." 

Marguerite  glided  back  into  the  house.  She 
had  heard  all  he  said,  and  did  not  even  cast 
back  at  me  one  glance  of  triumph. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  Hester,  as  John  and  I 
went  in  together. 

I  took  her  outstretched  hands,  and  kissed  her 
on  the  forehead. 

"  It  is  bad  news,  dear.  Be  strong,  Hester  — 
I  can  help  you  bear  it." 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  1 93 

"  Is  it  —  mother  ? "  she  asked  faintly  :  "  is 
she  dying  ?  " 

No  one  answered.  The  silence  was  appal- 
ling. Hester  sank  into  her  chair,  trembling, 
still  holding  my  hand  convulsively.  The  light 
and  color  had  all  gone  out  of  her  face,  but  she 
was  very  calm. 


194  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

"  Oh  country  sights  and  country  sounds ! 
Oh  childhood's  days  forever  gone, 
When  life  was  one  unbroken  joy  1 " 

T  TESTER  mourned  for  her  mother,  and  spent 
JL 1  much  of  her  time  with  the  professor,  to 
whom  her  presence  seemed  for  some  days  almost 
indispensable.  There  had  never  been  a  com- 
plete sympathy  between  my  wife  and  Mrs. 
Vaughan.  In  fact,  the  former  had  somewhat 
disappointed  her  mother.  Hester  was  what  she 
called  strong-minded,  and  vigorously  asserted 
the  rights  of  her  sex.  And,  furthermore,  Mrs. 
Vaughan  had  visited  very  little  at  our  house, 
never  having  quite  forgiven  Hester  for  refusing 
so  many  brilliant  offers,  to  settle  down  at  last 
as  only  the  wife  of  a  clergyman  who  worked 
for  his  living  in  a  quiet,  humdrum  way. 

Hester  went  into  deep  mourning,  very  much 
against  my  wishes,  for  I  have  an  utter  abhor- 
ence  of  the  fashion  of  crape ;  and  presently 
came  the  changes  that  we  knew  would  inevita- 
bly come. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  195 

The  professor  wished  to  break  up  house-keep- 
ing. He  offered  his  house  to  rent,  admirably 
furnished  as  it  was,  he  to  keep  a  suite  of  rooms 
including  his  library,  and  board  with  the  incom- 
ing family,  —  a  physician,  it  proved  to  be,  with 
a  large  practice  and  no  children. 

"  That  throws  Miriam  out,"  Hester  said,  as 
we  talked  it  over.  "  Papa  is  willing  to  provide 
for  her,  or  to  find  her  a  situation  ;  but  Miriam 
is  so  delicate,  I  hate  to  let  her  go  among  stran- 
gers. Besides,  I  shall  never  forget  her  kind- 
ness to  poor  mamma." 

"And  Marguerite,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  Marguerite,"  said  Hester,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause.  "I  don't  think  papa  ever 
cared  much  about  her:  it  was  a  whim  of 
mamma's  to  take  her,  and  now  the  child  is 
breaking  her  heart  because  it  is  proposed  to 
send  her  back  to  England.  Either  that  or  a 
boarding-school,  papa  says.  I  certainly  am 
very  much  attached  to  the  child,  and  she  is  not 
constitutionally  fitted  to  live  among  strangers. 
My  dear,  I  have  a  plan  :  if  only  you  will  second 
it ! "  she  looked  up  anxiously  at  me,  the  color 
flitting  back  and  forth  in  her  cheeks.  I  would 
do  any  thing  for  her,  and  she  knew  it ;  knew 
that  just  now  she  stood  on  a  plane  beyond  all 
the  ideals  of  womanhood  that  I  had  ever  ima- 
gined ;  knew  that  her  will  was  my  law,  and 


196  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

that,  for  the  sake  of  the  joy  to  come,  I  would 
unhesitatingly  have  sacrificed  my  most  cher- 
ished plans,  that  nothing  should  interfere  with 
her  happiness. 

"Then,  why  cannot  Miriam  and  Marguerite 
come  right  here  ?  Dolly  is  away  much  of  her 
time,  or  writing  in  her  room  ;  and  I  donrt  want 
to  be  lonesome  now.  Marguerite  is  progress- 
ing delightfully  in  her  studies,  and  pupil  and 
teacher  are  very  much  attached  to  each  other. 
It  can  make  no  difference  with  you.  Then," 
she  added  eagerly,  "we  can  leave  for  our  va- 
cation with  the  comfortable  feeling  that  there 
is  somebody  in  the  house." 

Had  a  bomb  exploded  at  my  feet,  I  could  not 
have  been  more  completely  taken  by  surprise. 
I  had  supposed  that  the  professor  would  provide 
for  the  future  of  Miriam,  and  send  the  child 
Marguerite  to  boarding-school.  Both  teacher 
and  child  were  distasteful  to  me.  To  have 
them  in  the  house  at  all  times  and  seasons,  to 
experience  that  indefinable  something  in  the 
presence  of  Miriam,  that  was  completely  antag- 
onistic to  my  nature,  and  yet  to  feel  that  she 
exercised  a  subtle  spell,  that  was  by  no  means 
a  pleasant  one,  over  my  consciousness,  made< 
the  proposition  for  a  moment  seem  too  mon- 
strous to  reflect  upon  with  any  degree  of  calm- 
ness. There  was  a  certain  insincerity  in  Miriam 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 


that  made  me  feel  painfully  that  she  could  not 
be  counted  upon  in  any  crisis  —  that  for  the 
sake  of  excusing  herself  she  could  accuse  an- 
other. Of  course,  I  did  not  know  exactly  how 
she  felt  toward  me,  only  there  was  the  convic- 
tion that  she  cherished  something  approaching 
revenge  ;  that  she  would  be  a  constant  thorn 
in  my  side,  and  enjoy  seeing  me  miserable. 
Besides,  it  was  possible  that  I  should  be  thrown 
very  much  in  her  society  as  Hester's  health 
became  more  markedly  delicate,  and  I  dreaded 
that.  There  was  the  refuge  of  the  church- 
study,  to  be  sure  ;  but  I  was  no  monk,  and 
craved  sympathy  and  association.  All  these 
thoughts  shot  through  my  mind,  quickened  by 
the  consciousness  that  I  might  have  made  every 
thing  clear  if  I  had  only  told  Hester  that  little 
episode,  would  only  tell  her  now.  But  time 
upon  that  subject  had  only  tied  my  tongue  the 
tighter. 

"  I  hope  you're  not  going  to  object,"  said 
Hester.  I  had  noticed  that  of  late  she  was 
more  easily  irritated  than  in  her  normal  state 
of  perfect  health,  and  I  carefully  avoided  every 
cause  that  might  subject  her  to  nervous  moods 
or  unhappy  intervals. 

"  I  want  to  think  of  it,  dear,"  I  said  at  last, 
reluctantly.  "  Of  course,  being  your  wish  gives 
it  great  weight  with  me;  but  —  are  you  sure 


198  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

you  will  like  Miriam  as  well,  as  a  constant  as- 
sociate ?  In  some  cases,  even  where  there  is 
a  near  relationship,  distance  lends  enchantment 
to  the  view,  and  "  — 

"Why,  Hal,  dear!  how  unjust  to  dear  Mir- 
iam ! "  said  Hester  with  some  vehemence. 
"You  have  no  idea  what  a  lovely  character 
hers  is  —  nothing  mean,  sordid,  or  selfish  about 
her.  I  shall  never  forget  her  devotion,  both  to 
my  mother  and  her  own.  And  she  is  so  sweet 
and  companionable,  she  can  take  my  place  in 
so  many  things.  I  am  not  going  to  be  selfish, 
and  let  you  pine  in  loneliness  because  I  can't 
be  always  with  you.  Why,  dear,  it's  more  for 
your  sake  than  my  own  that  I  want  Miriam ! " 

The  dear,  unselfish  little  woman !  How  im- 
measurably superior  to  all  the  women  I  had  ever 
known,  did  she  seem  to  me  then.  I  clasped  her 
to  my  bosom,  declaring  that  I  would  rather  share 
her  solitude,  even  her  hours  of  pain  and  impris- 
onment, rather  than  spend  moments  in  any 
other  companionship. 

"Perhaps  Miriam  will  not  care  to  come,"  I 
said.  "  Have  you  spoken  to  her  about  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  and  she  was  only  afraid  that  for- 
tune held  no  such  good  thing  in  store  for  her. 
Now  you  must  be  a  good  boy,  and  submit.  I 
have  arranged  for  a  sort  of  half  nursery,  half 
study,  for  Marguerite;  and  the  child  is  so 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  199 

pleased !  She  loves  us  both  dearly,  Hal,  and  I 
couldn't  consent  to  send  her  among  strangers. 
Dolly  is  pleased  too  ;  —  and  Dolly  will  probably 
soon  leave  us  for  good.  Has  Ravaillac  spoken 
to  you  yet  ? " 

"Not  yet,"  I  said,  with  misgivings.  I  felt 
an  unaccountable  sadness  steal  over  me.  My 
home,  which  had  hitherto  been  so  sacred,  a 
source  of  joy,  pure,  ecstatic,  and  holy,  was  soon 
to  be  a  divided  place.  I  felt,  by  some  strange 
law  of  the  heart,  as  yet  unread  by  nature,  un- 
known to  science,  that,  the  moment  Miriam 
stepped  over  our  threshold,  my  peace  and  the 
peace  of  my  beloved  Hester  would  be  threat- 
ened, if  not  sacrificed.  It  was  as  if  I  could  see 
that  Miriam  had  been  biding  her  time. 

At  length  I  acquiesced  with  the  best  grace  I 
could  ;  and  Miriam  came  one  sunny  day,  and  all 
her  trunks  and  belongings  with  her.  Hester 
had  given  one  of  the  best  rooms  for  her  occu- 
pancy, and  seemed  quite  overjoyed  that  now  her 
household  was  completed. 

"  I  made  papa  promise  that  he  would  come 
every  Sunday  to  dinner,"  she  said,  beaming 
upon  me.  "  It  will  make  him  feel  so  much  less 
lonesome ! " 

Lonesome!  there  was  but  little  danger  of 
being  lonesome  now,  in  any  part  of  the  house. 
Marguerite  took  music-lessons,  Miriam  practised 


2OO  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

indefatigably,  and  I  soon  began  to  sigh  for  the 
old  quiet.  Hester  had  prepared  a  pretty  little 
apartment,  leading  out  of  the  nursery,  for  her 
own  sewing-room  ;  and  there  I  spent  much  of 
my  time,  though  Hester  assured  me  that  it  was 
her  especial  domain,  and  she  should  only  allow 
my  visits  till  I  got  accustomed  to  the  change. 

We  spent  our  vacation  with  my  sisters  ;  -and, 
while  there,  Belle  was  quietly  married.  My 
wife  enjoyed  the  beautiful  country-haunts  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  child. 

"  I  wonder  you  were  not  all  poets,"  she  said, 
as  we  went  from  point  to  point,  where  as  a  boy 
I  had  studied  and  fished,  and  gone  berry-pick- 
ing. "  Every  view  is  more  beautiful  than  the 
last,  and  I  never  saw  such  trees ! "  Then  the 
thimbleberry  bushes,  the  great  tracts  of  wild 
strawberry  and  blackberry  vines,  the  sun-lighted 
rivers,  the  natural  arches  made  by  bended 
branches  over  the  long  green  forest  aisles,  the 
blue  thread  of  a  rivulet,  the  gorgeous  sunsets  — 
never  was  there  a  more  delighted  recipient  of 
country  hospitality. 

Oh,  could  I  have  staid  there  eternally  with 
my  wife,  amid  those  rustic  sights  and  sounds ! 
Could  we  have  wandered  from  day  to  day,  like 
two  happy  children,  unhindered  by  contact  with 
the  Dickories ;  the  rich  vulgar,  and  the  poor 
proud ;  the  selfish,  who  deemed  themselves  pro- 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  2OI 

digies  of  charity ;  the  stingy  generous,  and  the 
malevolent  urbane  ;  the  pews  that  paid  and  were 
arrogant,  the  pews  that  did  not  pay  and  were 
impertinent.  But  God  only  lets  us  live  in  par- 
adise a  little  at  a  time,  in  this  world ;  and  that 
two  months  of  solid  enjoyment  was  all  I  could 
have  been  spared  in  the  dusty  record  of  time. 
Did  I  preach  ?  Not  once.  My  brothers  in  the 
ministry  courteously  invited,  my  sisters  im- 
plored, and  my  friends  importuned.  I  wanted 
to  let  my  other  life  severely  alone,  and  go  back 
to  the  old  days  when  the  preaching,  if  not  the 
preacher  (who  was  my  own  father),  was  a  bore 
to  me.  I  wonder  if  that  is  why  I  pity  the  chil- 
dren so  in  crowded  churches,  with  their  vacuous 
faces  and  ill-concealed  yawns. 

At  last  it  was  over ;  at  last  only  the  dream 
was  left,  to  think  of  once  in  a  while ;  and  I 
went  back  refreshed  to  my  sterner  duties. 

Dolly  had  been  with  us,  and,  once  a  week, 
Mr.  Ravaillac.  It  was  curious  to  see  how,  in 
his  presence,  the  antipathies  of  my  family  took 
wing.  I  knew  why,  —  it  was  the  man's  con- 
summate tact.  It  amounted  to  genius.  If 
Dora  looked  for  a  chair,  there  was  he  with  the 
most  comfortable  of  rockers,  and  a  smile  that 
would  have  melted  the  frozen  lips  of  marble 
into  its  counterpart.  If  one  of  them  lost  her 
spectacles,  it  was  always  Mr.  Ravaillac  who  re- 


2O2  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

stored  them,  returning  them  with  so  courtly  a 
grace,  that  the  recipient  found  herself  longing 
to  lose  them  again.  To  spring  forward  with  a 
shawl,  to  move  a  hassock,  roll  a  table,  offer  a 
basket,  insist  upon  precedent,  and  all  the  time 
to  make  it  apparent,  by  little,  unobtrusive  ser- 
vices, that  Dolly  was  the  light  of  his  eyes,  the 
very  pulse  of  his  heart !  Opposition  halted, 
prejudice  vanished.  He  could  say,  "I  came,  I 
saw,  I  conquered ! " 

"  I  believe  I  could  live  forever  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  Mount  Myrtle,"  Hester  would  often 
say,  busy  over  her  basket  of  little  things.  "  We 
will  come  here  every  summer,  Hal." 

We  found  the  house  on  our  return  much  the 
same  as  we  left  it,  only  the  carpets  had  been 
shaken,  and  every  thing  put  straight. 

"  Miriam  is  such  a  good  housekeeper !  "  Hes- 
ter said  :  "you  will  not  find  any  difference  when 
I  am  not  down-stairs." 

Did  I  not  ?  It  would  be  hard  for  me  to  tell 
how  I  found  it  something  less  than  home,  but 
I  did. 

Miriam  had  grown  more  beautiful,  and  paid 
more  attention  to  dress  than  formerly.  Gradu- 
ally I  saw  that  a  change  came  over  her.  From 
demure,  sad  self-possession,  she  became  bright 
and  attentive.  It  seemed  sometimes  as  if  Hes- 
ter had  delegated  her  own  social  duties  to  her 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  2O3 

cousin.  She  brought  me  my  dressing-gown, 
and  warmed  my  slippers.  At  Hester's  earnest 
entreaty,  I  took  her  with  me  now  and  then  to 
lectures,  to  concerts. 

"You  must  make  poor,  lonely  Miriam  as 
happy  as  you  can,"  Hester  would  say.  "  Some- 
times it  seems  to  me  that  you  do  not  like  her. 
She  feels  it  too." 

"Why,  what  has  she  ever  said  ?  "  I  asked  in 
some  alarm. 

"Nothing,  not  a  word.  I  wish  some  good 
man  would  come  along  whom  she  could  love ; 
for  of  course  she  is  dependent  now,  and  she 
feels  it :  perhaps  that  is  what  I  meant  when  I 
said  she  thinks  you  do  not  like  her.  Of  course, 
like  all  young  girls,  Miriam  would  be  happier 
with  a  lover  of  her  own." 

"  Then,  why  don't  she  get  one  ? "  I  asked 
bluntly. 

"  She  is  not  one  of  the  pushing  kind,"  said 
Hester  simply ;  "  so  you  must  be  very  good  to 
her." 


2O4  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

"  And  all  her  words  were  bitter, 
And  all  her  glances  flame." 

I  WAS  sitting  in  my  study  one  evening,  ad- 
miring the  effect  of  some  statuettes  I  had 
been  beguiled  by  an  itinerant  Italian  into  pur- 
chasing, when  Jenkins  thrust  his  long  ears  in 
at  the  door. 

"  Sure,  it's  Mr.  Ravaillac  as  wishes  to  see 
you,"  he  said,  and  stepped  aside. 

The  Frenchman  entered,  paused  on  the 
threshold,  gave  me  a  penetrating  look,  and 
then  stood  like  a  prince,  if  princes  ever  await 
the  pleasure  of  their  hosts. 

"Won't  you  be  seated,  sir?"  I  said,  and 
pointed  to  a  vacant  chair. 

He  flushed,  bowed,  and  slid  with  easy  grace 
into  the  chair  indicated,  crossed  one  leg  over 
the  other,  rested  the  hand  which  held  his  hat 
on  that,  and  so,  his  handsome  face  somewhat 
troubled,  proceeded  to  tell  me  his  story.  It 
was  very  modestly  told.  He  had  loved  Dolly 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  2O5 

from  the  first  moment  of  seeing  her :  he  loved 
her  —  and  his  look  grew  rapturous  —  as  no  man 
ever  loves  a  woman  twice.  He  would  ask  per- 
mission to  show  me  some  of  his  papers  :  he  had 
one  from  the  American  consul  in  Paris,  from 
the  French  minister  in  Washington.  He  had 
that  very  day  heard  good  news :  his  case  was 
gained ;  the  home  of  his  ancestors  restored, 
though  not  their  rank.  That  was  impossible  as 
yet,  while  France  remained  republican.  His 
grand-mtre  had  cabled  the  news  over  her  own 
name,  so  had  his  sister.  He  held  out  the  two 
messages.  Now  he  was  independent :  now  he 
could  take  his  bride  to  his  ancient  home.  He 
knew  he  was  asking  of  me  a  great  prize :  but 
he  would  swear  eternal  fidelity,  his  wife  should 
be  to  him  as  a  princess  of  the  blood  royal,  while 
we  should  be  his  ever  beloved  American  kin- 
dred ;  and  so  he  went  on,  while  I  listened 
quietly. 

"  You  ask  a  great  deal,  monsieur,"  I  said : 
"you  take  my  twin  sister,  my  twin  soul,  some 
thousands  of  miles  from  our  home.  She  has 
there  no  friends,  no  brothers,  no  sisters, — no 
one  but  you.  It  is  a  serious  question :  it  may 
involve  serious  results.  What  does  Dolly  her- 
self say  ? " 

"Ah!  "his  eyes  flashed  fire;  he  crossed  his 
arms  upon  his  breast,  while  another  flood  of 


2O6  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

rapture  brightened  his  face  :  "  she  says  she  will 
go  with  me  to  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

"  And  these  are  your  papers  ? "  I  asked,  as 
I  put  my  hand  upon  the  package  he  had  placed 
on  the  desk.  "  They  are  all  in  French,  but  the 
one  from  the  American  consul.  I  cannot  read 
French." 

"Ah!  but  you  can  easily  get  it  translated.'* 
I  smiled  at  his  quaint  pronunciation.  "  I  myself 
could  translate  for  you." 

"  I  see,"  I  said,  putting  my  left  hand  in  my 
waistcoat  inner  pocket,  and  suddenly  displaying 
the  tablet ;  "  and  what  is  this  ? " 

That  the  man  was  not  habitually  a  deceiver 
was  proved  by  the  quick,  deathly  pallor  that 
overspread  his  face,  and  the  start  so  full  of 
astonishment,  and  equally  marked  with  guilt. 
He  gasped,  and  bit  his  lip.  For  once  his  court- 
liness deserted  him,  for  a  rolling  "  Sacre-e ! " 
issued  from  his  lips. 

"You  know  these,  then?  don't  attempt  to 
deny  it.  /  have  known  for  a  long  time." 

He  stared  at  me  wildly,  threw  one  hand  to 
his  head,  and  staggered  like  a  drunken  man.  I 
thought  he  would  fall. 

"I  —  I  am  not  —  prepared " — 

"  Confess  that  you  are  an  impostor ! "  I  thun- 
dered ;  "  that  you  have  sought  my  sister's  hand 
under  false  pretences ;  that  you  have  no  sister, 
no  grandmother,  no  standing,  no  estates  I " 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  2O/ 

"  Non  !  non  !  my  God,  non  /  "  he  cried,  taken 
aback  by  my  vehemence.  "I  have  a  sister  — 
2igrand-mtre  —  a  home. —  I  will  not  be  what 
you  call  brow-beaten  —  non  !  You  shall  not  so 
address  me ! " 

"You  have  deceived  me  —  us  all,"  I  said 
sternly.  "  I  read  it  in  your  countenance." 

"Ah  !  in  a  little  way  —  perhaps  —  in  a  small 
way  —  that  is  all  it  seems  to  us  Frenchmen,  I 
swear  to  you  !  " 

"Don't  swear  to  me.  I  want  none  of  your 
protestations  :  I  want  the  truth.  You  invented 
your  sister  —  made  her  sick  or  well  at  your  ca- 
price :  you  invented  her  husband,  —  the  colonel 
of  the  French  army.  You  see  that  I  have  in- 
formation gained  from  a  private  source.  You 
are  a  liar,  sir!  and  you  cannot  have  my  sister." 

For  one  moment  I  stood  on  the  defensive,  for 
his  straight  figure  swayed  and  trembled  with 
sudden  anger.  I  thought  he  would  strike  me. 
But  no :  he  preserved  his  dignity,  simply  say- 
ing, "  You  are  her  brother !  —  I  cannot  touch 
you." 

There  was  sincerity  in  this,  grace,  magna- 
nimity. His  voice  had  the  ring  of  manliness, 
his  eyes  the  look  of  truth.  A  moment  more, 
and  Dolly  stood  in  our  midst,  so  purely  beau- 
tiful under  the  fleecy  ornaments  on  shoulders 
and  head,  that  she  seemed  like  an  angel  just 
come  from  heaven. 


2O8  TELL   YOUR  WIFE. 

"  Brother,  what  is  this  ?  are  you  angry  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  Your  voice  came 
through  to  the  parlor.  Ernest,"  she  added, 
turning  to  Ravaillac,  "what  is  it?" 

"  It  is  this,"  I  said,  fixing  Ravaillac  with  my 
eyes.  "  This  man  who  has  the  audacity  to  ask 
for  your  hand,  is  a  vile  impostor.  He  came  to 
you  with  lies  on  his  lips,  and  in  your  pure  pres- 
ence he  dares  not  deny  it." 

"  Oh  !  he  must,  he  will  deny  it !  "  she  said,  in 
a  low,  passionate  voice. 

Another  moment  he  was  on  his  knees  at  her 
feet,  his  head  buried  in  her  garments.  Then 
he  looked  up.  Death  seemed  to  be  stamped  in 
his  face.  She  was  gazing  down  at  him  like  a 
pitying  spirit.  He  was  shaking  from  head  to 
foot. 

"It  was  a  sudden  temptation  —  and — I  was 
overcome  —  but  I  will  tell  you  —  I  will  tell  you  " 
—  and  a  terrible  sob  shook  him  from  head  to 
foot. 

"  I  will  not  have  you  kneel,  Ernest.  Get  up," 
said  Dolly,  with  sudden  sternness.  All  the 
color  had  left  her  face.  She  gathered  her  gar- 
ments, and  held  them  back  as  if  fearing  con- 
tamination from  his  touch.  He  saw  the  gesture, 
quickly  caught  at  them  again,  and  kissed  the 
hem  of  her  dress  with  passionate  earnestness. 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  2CX) 

Then,  as  she  drew  back  again,  he  let  them  fall, 
rose  to  his  feet,  half  turned  away,  and  leaned 
over  the  back  of  his  chair. 

For  a  few  seconds  there  was  utter  silence. 
Then  she  went  towards  him,  very  grave,  offered 
her  little  white  hand,  and  as  he  took  it,  with  a 
renewal  of  hope  kindling  all  over  his  face,  and 
glowing  in  his  eyes,  she  said,  — 

"If  you  have  deceived  me,  Ernest,  if  you 
have  lied,  as  my  brother  says,  —  my  dear,  good 
brother,  who  has -loved  me  all  my  life, — good- 
by.  Some  other  time  I  may  listen  to  you  as  a 
friend;  but  now — I  can't  stay  here,"  she  added; 
and  with  a  cry  that  went  to  my  heart,  she  hur- 
ried out  as  she  had  come  in,  looking  like  to 
faint. 

"  My  God !  and  I  was  so  happy !  "  he  said. 
"  I  will  n6t  live  longer !  I  want  not  life,  nor 
fortune,  nor  love  without  her." 

"  If  you  can  tell  me  the  truth,"  I  said  — 

He  knelt  humbly  at  my  side,  nor  would  he 
listen  to  my  commands  that  he  should  rise. 
He  talked  rapidly :  every  sentence  seemed  to 
burn  with  truth. 

"I  am  not  noble  —  that  is  all.  My  father 
was  a  soldier.  My  grandfather  was  with  Napo- 
leon at  Austerlitz.  He  won  a  medal  for  bravery. 
My  father  died,  my  mother  died  :  they  were 
poor,  but  I  was  adopted  by  a  merchant  and  his 


2IO  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

wife.  My  sister  was  taken  by  another  family. 
I  was  the  same  as  son  to  the  good  people. 
They  cared  for  my  grand-mere  because  her  hus- 
band had  distinguished  himself.  These  good 
people  lost  all  in  the  war  :  they  were  made  poor, 
but  not  before  they  had  educated  me.  I  was 
all  they  had  :  they  loved  me,  and  I  adored  them. 
Yes,  yes,  I  have  a  sister — mon  ange — petite 
Elise.  I  swear  to  you  she  is  no  myth,  but  flesh 
of  my  flesh,  bone  of  my  bone.  She  is  also  mar- 
ried, and  has  a  little  son  ;  but  her  husband  is 
only  a  plain  man,  no  officer  of  the  French  army. 
That  is  only  where  I  sinned — yes,  I  own  it 
with  shame,  with  very  much  shame  !  —  I  wanted 
to  seem  better  than  I  am.  For  her  sake  I 
wanted  to  be  a  noble,  unfortunate  through  in- 
justice. Now  you  have  the  truth.  God  has 
helped  you  more  than  men  have  helped  me. 
But  I  will  tell  you,  and  you  shall  believe !  — 
those  to  whom  I  belong  are  honest,  .honorable 
people ;  and  I  could  curse  myself  that  I  was 
ashamed  of  their  humble  position  —  they  who 
did  so  much  for  me.  It  was  unmanly  :  I  see  it 
now.  I  am  unworthy  to  take  the  hand  of  a 
good  man  ;  and,  alas  !  I  have  lost  the  esteem  of 
the  woman  I  worship.  Here  are  my  letters. 
Take  them  where  you  will  :  the  truth  shall  be 
proved.  Here  is  the  paper  that  gives  evidence 
that  my  kind  foster-parents  have  returned  to 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  211 

them  the  wealth  they  earned  in  business,  that 
was  taken  from  them  during  the  war.  I  de- 
spise myself  that  I  was  ashamed  of  them.  I 
kneel  here  at  your  feet,  and  ask,  implore,  your 
forgiveness.  Do  not  condemn  me  for  my  weak- 
ness. Have  a  little  patience  with  me.  I  can- 
not live  and  endure  your  contempt.  Tell  me 
that  you  do  not  think  me  wholly  unworthy." 

What  could  I  do  ?  his  qualifications  socially 
were  simply  immense.  I  found  that  in  my 
heart  I  loved  the  fellow,  and  also  found  my 
sympathy  taking  the  shape  of  pity  for  his  mis- 
fortunes rather  than  his  sin.  And  yet  I  could 
say  to  him,  — 

"Sir,  I  despise  a  liar." 

"Yes,"  he  said  humbly,  rising  from  his  knees  : 
"  I  confess  I  have  forfeited  the  good  opinion  of 
honest  men  and  women.  Good-by,  sir :  you 
shall  no  more  see  me." 

There  was  a  look  in  his  large  dark  eyes  that 
moved  me  more  than  any  word  he  had  spoken. 

"  And  what  of  Dolly  ?  "  I  said  sternly. 

He  shook  his  head :  his  lip  trembled.  With 
a  gesture  indescribable,  he  said,  — 

"  It  was  paradise  —  and  I  have  lost  it.  But 
what  can  I  say  more  ?  Of  what  good  is  it  to 
me  ?  I  care  not  for  life  :  it  is  over,  it  is  done 
for  me."  His  hand  was  on  the  door-knob. 

"  We  will  not  part  in  anger,"  I  said  after  a 


212  TELL   YOUR  WIFE. 

pause  ;  and  I  stood  up,  my  heart  aching  for  my 
sister.  "  What  Dolly  may  do  in  the  future,  I 
can't  say.  She,  too,  shares  in  my  hatred  for  a 
— for  deception,"  I  added  hastily.  "  But  it  is 
my  duty  as  a  minister  of  God  to  comfort  and 
forgive.  You  are  penitent  —  God  help  you  and 
console  you." 

I  held  out  my  hand.  He  took  it  with  a 
heavy,  suppressed  sob,  in  both  his,  carried  it  to 
his  lips,  then  went  out  into  the  dark.  I  looked 
at  my  hand  half  reverently,  standing  there 
alone :  a  large  tear  had  plashed  down  upon  it. 
I  took  my  handkerchief,  and  wiped  it  softly  out. 

As  I  expected,  Dolly  was  not  to  be  seen  on 
my  return.  Miriam  sat  by  the  centre-table  by 
herself.  She  looked  up,  smiling. 

"  Where's  Hester  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Hester  went  up-stairs  early,  with  a  bad 
headache.  Dolly  came  in  a  few  minutes  ago, 
and  she,  too,  rushed  up-stairs.  Marguerite  fell 
asleep  —  so  you  see  I  have  had  a  sociable  even- 
ing of  it.  Mr.  Ravaillac  promised  to  come  back, 
and  play  backgammon  with  me,  but  he  didn't ; 
and  I  wanted  a  game  so  much  !  See,  the  table 
is  set :  won't  you  play  with  me  ? " 

I  was  not  in  the  mood  for  games  of  any  kind  : 
my  mind  vtas  occupied  with  the  exciting  scene 
that  had  so  recently  occurred.  Miriam  had  the 
penetration  to  discover  that  something  unpleas- 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  213 

ant  had  jarred  upon  my  feelings.  In  another 
moment  my  great,  comfortable  arm-chair  was 
drawn  forward,  the  lamp-shade  turned,  so  that 
the  light  should  not  strike  my  eyes,  and  the 
backgammon-table  moved  aside.  Of  course,  I 
acknowledged  the  courtesy  by  seating  myself  in 
the  cosey,  softly  illuminated  room  ;  and  not  long 
after  that  we  two  were  playing  backgammon. 
I  can  recall  the  scene, — the  shadowy  sides  of 
the  room  ;  an  ornament  here,  half  in  shadow  ;  a 
book-case  there  ;  a  bit  of  gilding ;  a  touch  of 
color ;  and  Miriam,  her  soul  in  her  face,  watch- 
ing my  moves  intently. 

We  had  had  three  games,  two  of  which  were 
won  by  her,  and  were  nearly  through  the  third, 
when  I  observed  her  hand  trembled.  I  looked 
up :  her  eyes  were  swimming  in  moisture,  and 
singularly  lustrous.  Before  I  could  speak,  she 
had  burst  into  a  violent  passion  of  tears,  sob- 
bing and  weeping  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

Startled,  astonished,  and  at  last  a  little  angry, 
I  sat  back  in  my  chair,  and  looked'  at  the  girl. 

"  Miriam,  what  does  this  mean  ? "  at  last  I 
forced  myself  to  say,  trying  to  speak  with  stern- 
ness, but  I  fear  failing. 

"  Oh  !  don't  speak  to  me  !  don't  look  at  me  !  " 
she  cried,  drawing  in  her  breath  like  one  in  pain. 
"There  are  so  —  so  many  things  —  to  —  make 
one  miserable.  I  am  so  unhappy  !  so  wretched." 


214  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

My  impulse  was  to  leave  the  room  at  once ; 
but  a  touch  of  human  nature,  perhaps  of  curios- 
ity, held  me  passive. 

"  I  am  sure  Hester  thought  she  was  doing 
her  best  by  you,"  I  said. 

I  think  she  set  her  teeth  hard  together. 

"  Hester !  "  she  said,  and  the  tone  made  me 
pitiless.  "It  was  always  Hester! —  Hester 
always  came  between  me  and  happiness." 

"  Then,  if  the  trouble  is  with  you  and  Hes- 
ter, you  must  fight  it  out  between  yourselves," 
I  said,  as  I  rose  from  my  chair. 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  say  any  thing  to  Hes- 
ter ? "  exclaimed  the  girl,  also  rising,  and  dash- 
ing the  tears  away.  And  then  she  burst  into  a 
torrent  of  reproaches  that  fairly  stunned  me. 
To  whom  was  she  indebted  for  a  life  of  isola- 
tion, a  heart  starved  and  broken,  but  to  me? 
Yes,  I  could  stand  there  at  the  sacred  desk,  and 
preach  to  people  about  their  sins,  and  look  and 
move  among  my  congregation  without  reproach, 
while  my  own  record  was  that  of  a  hypocrite 
and  a  deceiver.  She  held  my  letters  to  prove  as 
much  —  she  held  me  !  She  could  fill  my  home 
with  hatred  if  she  chose,  could  make  Hester 
despise  me  !  —  and  there  she  stood,  launching 
out  her  thunderbolts  with  the  passion  of  a  Fury, 
looking,  as  she  did  so,  like  a  beautiful  fiend. 

At  last  the  day  of  retribution  had  come. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  215 

And  I  —  what  could  I  do  ?  There  was  no 
possibility  of  inflicting  punishment :  she  was  a 
woman,  and  I  had  furnished  her  the  weapons 
with  which  to  strike  at  my  happiness.  I  stood 
for  a  while  stunned  and  helpless. 

"After  this,"  I  said,  when  there  was  a  lull  in 
the  tempest  of  words,  "  it  will  be  no  longer  pos- 
sible for  you  to  remain  here,  Miss  Hope." 

"  And  who  will  put  me  out  ?  Not  you.  Hes- 
ter has  my  ear,  and  I  have  hers.  I  can  wind 
her  round  my  finger,  especially  now.  Oh  !  I 
said  to  myself,  I  would  make  you  surfer  such 
torment  as  I  have  felt ;  and  I  will.  For  a  time, 
/  shall  be  mistress  here  !  " 

The  woman's  audacity  overpowered  me.  The 
grievance  was  singular,  subtle,  and  sudden. 
For  a  few  moments,  I  had  that  sort  of  helpless 
feeling  that  the  bird,  perhaps,  feels  when  the 
eye  of  the  charmer  is  fastened  upon  it.  How 
to  make  Hester  aware  of  the  hostile  force  in  our 
little  household  ?  She  had  perfect  faith  in  Mir- 
iam. Towards  her  the  girl  was  a  pattern  of  all 
the  virtues,  a  mystic  compound  of  the  woman 
and  the  angel.  She  relieved  her  of  care.  Her 
manipulations  often  banished  the  headaches  that 
were  now  so  frequent ;  and  the  buoyancy  of  her 
temperament  bridged  over  those  lapses  of  de- 
spondency in  which  Hester  was  no  longer  my 
sweet  and  smiling  priestess,  but  foreboded  ter- 
rible things,  and  was  sure  she  was  going  to  die. 


2l6  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

She  had  spoken  of  letters.  What  letters  had 
she  in  her  possession  that  could  possibly  com- 
promise me  ?  I  knew  I  had  now  and  then  writ- 
ten her  little  notes ;  but  I  knew,  also,  that  they 
all  ended,  "  Yours  respectfully."  That  last  let- 
ter, perhaps,  in  the  excess  of  my  pity,  my  self- 
torment,  in  that  I  might  have  said  something, 
which,  wrenched  out  of  meaning,  might  be  used 
for  my  torture. 

It  was  an  unpleasant  fact  to  face,  that  Miriam 
cherished  even  now  a  fierce  passion  that  touched 
the  borders  of  hate  ;  and  I  shrank  from  it  as  one 
shrinks  from  a  deadly  danger,  and  yet  knows  not 
how  to  escape.  It  was  to  be  my  thorn  in  the 
flesh,  unseen  by  any  other  than  the  eye  of  God, 
to  go  with  me  wherever  I  -went,  to  lie  down  and 
rise  up  with  me,  unless  in  some  way  I  could  rid 
my  home  of  the  incubus  that  shadowed  it,  and 
threatened  my  domestic  happiness.  I  could  not 
condescend  to  bandy  words  with  a  woman  :  it 
would  have  been  a  relief  could  I  have  put  her 
bodily  out  of  the  house,  and  have  done  with  her. 

But  her  presence  was  due  to  the  express  wishes 
of  my  wife ;  and  if  any  thing  could  be  done,  which 
I  doubted  then,  it  must  be  done  through  her. 
At  all  events,  one  thing  I  could  do.  I  would 
let  her  severely  alone. 

How  little  I  reckoned  on  a  woman's  strategy! 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  2 1/ 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

"Shall  the  fight  be  never  ended? 

Shall  the  conquest  ne'er  be  gained  ?  " 

I  THINK  even  Dolly  did  not  miss  Ravaillac 
more  than  I  did.  He  was  one  of  those  bless- 
ings one  can  better  appreciate  by  its  absence. 
At  his  entrance,  care  seemed  to  vanish ;  and 
the  Graces,  in  all  sorts  of  amiable  and  beautiful 
forms,  took  up  their  abode  wherever  he  chose 
to  stay. 

The  morning  after  that  stormy  interview  with 
Miriam,  I  purposely  delayed  going  below  stairs 
till  the  breakfast-bell  rang.  Even  then  my 
heart  sank  within  me,  and  my  apprehensions 
almost  made  a  farce  of  my  devotions. 

I  went  in  really  leaning  on  Hester's  strength ; 
for  she  was  unusually  well  and  bright,  conse- 
quently in  good  spirits. 

To  my  utter  astonishment,  there  was  not  a 
trace  of  the  storm,  the  passion,  of  the  preced- 
ing evening.  Quivering  mouth  and  trembling 
hands  were  firm  enough,  and  equal  to  all  the 


2l8  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

demands  made  upon  them.  One  would  never 
have  thought,  to  look  at  Miriam,  freshly  attired, 
undisturbed  and  beautiful,  that  a  breeze  of  an- 
noyance had  ever  ruffled  her  calm  uniformity  of 
demeanor.  Towards  me  she  was  all  smiles  and 
sunshine,  while  I  sat  in  dumb  amaze.  Could 
that  strange  episode  ever  have  occurred  ?  Was 
it  not  a  dream  of  the  night,  a  picture  of  my 
excited  fancy  ? 

Dolly  came  from  an  early  walk  just  as  we 
were  sitting  down  to  breakfast,  her  cheeks  scar- 
let. It  pained  me  to  see  how  soon  the  rich  glow, 
born  of  exercise,  faded,  and  the  cheeks  looked 
haggard,  the  eyes  restless  and  hollow.  Plainly 
she  had  not  slept  all  night.  She  talked  in  her 
old  way,  but  both  manner  and  matter  were  ex- 
aggerated. I  knew  Dolly  so  well ! 

When  she  fell  on  my  neck  afterwards,  and, 
sobbing,  told  me  how  much  she  had  loved  Ra- 
vaillac,  and  how  drearily  she  missed  him,  the 
pain  from  her  heart  reached  to  mine. 

"Surely  no  girl  had  brighter  prospects,"  she 
said.  We  were  in  the  study,  and  she  was  sit- 
ting on  a  hassock  at  my  feet.  "  I  often  felt 
that  the  rich  feast  spread  before  me  was  more 
than  I  had  a  right  to  expect.  Only  think !  we 
were  going  to  travel  for  a  year, — one  whole 
year !  Now  it  is  all  over,  and  I  cannot  even 
respect  the  man  I  loved  so  dearly.  That  is 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  2 19 

the  hardest  of  all.  If  he  had  only  died  !  "  And 
she  bowed  her  heavy  eyes,  from  which  the  tears 
rained,  on  my  knees  again. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  had  an  opportunity 
to  relate  to  her  the  story  he  told  in  his  own  vin- 
dication. She  listened  passively,  her  head  on 
my  knee,  her  face  turned  from  me. 

"And  in  spite  of  all,"  I  said,  "he  took  my 
sympathy,  my  forgiveness,  away  with  him.  If 
he  wished  it,  would  you  see  him  again  ? " 

"Never!  "  she  said  firmly. 

"He  is  none  the  worse,  you  know,  for  not 
being  nobly  born." 

"Oh  !  I  didn't  mean  that  —  I  didn't  think  of 
that !  What  did  I,  as  an  American,  value  in  the 
historic  greatness  of  a  title?  No  :  it  is  his  des- 
picable pride  in  ignoring  his  humble  people, 
that  I  cannot  forgive.  It  shows  there  is  some- 
thing inherently  selfish  and  mean  in  his  charac- 
ter. He  wouldn't  be  safe  to  trust.  I'm  afraid 
of  him." 

There  seemed  both  common  sense  and  truth 
in  what  she  said,  and  yet  I  found  myself  in  the 
mood  to  plead  for  him. 

"I  certainly  do  miss  him,"  I  said:  "he  made 
our  evenings  so  pleasant !  " 

"  So  he  did  ;  "  and  she  smiled  brightly.  "  And 
I  noticed,  that  however  wearied  I  was  with  the 
day's  labors,  or  however  much  I  had  on  my  mind, 


22O  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

all  care  fell  off  in  his  presence.  He  certainly 
had  a  lovely  temperament." 

"  It  would  never  do  for  him  to  come  as  a  friend, 
then,"  I  ventured. 

"No,  no:  don't  think  of  it  —  not  for  him! 
not  for  me  !  No  "  —  and  she  smiled  a  little 
drearily  —  "  we  must  make  the  most  of  Miriam 
—  and  Madge."  At  that  the  life  had  gone  out 
of  her  voice. 

"But  Miriam  and  Madge  are  not  —  home,"  I 
said,  somewhat  wide  of  the  mark,  though  the 
meaning  was  conveyed. 

"  No,  indeed !  "  said  Dolly  sadly.  "  I  never 
shall  feel  towards  —  her,  as  I  do  for  Hester. 
There  is  a  sense  of  something  hidden  about 
Miriam,  I  can't  describe  it  exactly,  only  feel 
it.  It  seems  as  if  she  were  watching  one  — 
getting  at  one's  motives,  suspecting  one.  Well, 
I  really  ought  not  to  say  this  —  but  we  are  so  sel- 
dom quite  alone  now,  you  and  I."  Then  she 
looked  up  at  me  with  wet  eyes. 

"  Hal,  had  I  ought  to  stay  ? " 

"  Dolly !  what  do  you  mean  ? "  I  asked,  in 
real  terror.  Hester  sick,  Miriam  mistress  — 
self-constituted  —  of  the  rectory,  —  I  could  not 
let  her  go. 

"  Since  she  is  here,  I  feel  as  if  in  the  way, 
dear :  I  do  really,  and  yet  I  can't  say  that  she 
ever  implies  it  by  word  or  deed.  But  I  can't 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  221 

help  it :  I  feel  so.  You  know  there  is  the  dear 
old  home  —  and  yet  "  — 

"  It  would  kill  you,  Dolly,  to  go  there  and 
brood,  and  brood.  No  :  my  house  is  your  home. 
And  listen  :  just  now  it  would  not  be  home 
without  you.  For  my  sake,  if  you  can  fight 
this  battle  with  your  heart,  here,  stay.  Lean 
on  me  —  on  a  stronger  than  me,  of  course ;  but 
I  will  give  you  my  poor  help  —  you  know  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it."  She  got  up  from  the  has- 
sock, and  threw  her  arms  about  my  neck,  kiss- 
ing me  many  times,  as  she  had  when  I  was  a 
child  ;  and,  while  she  was  thus  kissing  me,  the 
door  opened  and  shut  gently.  Somebody  looked 
in.  I  could  not  say  who,  for  the  face  dis- 
appeared so  instantaneously.  I  went  to  the 
door — nobody  was  in  sight;  and  I  dismissed 
the  matter  from  my  mind,  after  we  had  both 
wondered  over  it  a  little. 

Then  came  a  time  appalling  in  the  annals  of 
that  city,  —  disease  that  took  the  form  of  a 
plague,  and  filled  many  homes  with  mourning. 
Of  this  Hester  was  kept  as  much  in  ignorance 
as  possible,  but  my  continued  absences  annoyed 
her.  Nervous  depression  added  to  her  trials  a 
new  danger. 

She  was  sure  I  was  not  kind  to  Miriam  :  not 
that  Miriam  complained,  but  she  felt  it.  I 
must  take  Miriam  out  oftener  :  her  cousin  was 


222  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

t 

exhausted  by  the  demands  made  upon  her  time 
and  strength.  I  did  not  appreciate  Miriam's 
beautiful  character.  I  was  sent  down-stairs 
when  I  would  gladly  have  remained  with  Hester  ; 
and,  if  I  sought  relief  in  my  church-study,  Hester 
was  unhappy.  How  did  I  know  that  by  many 
a  hint ;  by  chance  words,  carelessly  spoken, 
seemingly  ;  by  affecting  gayety,  while  the  ready 
tears  were  in  her  eyes,  —  for  this  woman  could 
weep  at  will,  — Miriam  so  wrought  on  my  wife's 
sensitive  mind,  that  Hester  was  becoming  mor- 
bidly anxious  on  her  cousin's  account? 

There  are  devilish  natures  in  this  world,  de- 
cided types  of  the  worst  forces  of  our  humanity, 
seeming  to  lack  nothing  of  the  evil  side  of  life, 
while  at  the  same  time  they  pass  for  their  op- 
posites,  the  saints.  Miriam  was  one  of  these, 
working  inch  by  inch,  moving  step  by  step, 
toward  the  accomplishment  of  her  purpose. 
•In  this  case  she  had  fully  decided  to  be  re- 
venged on  me,  for  what  she  supposed  was  an 
intentional  slight.  She  had,  of  course,  been 
vain  enough  to  think  she  could  supplant  Hester 
in  my  affections,  and,  failing,  chose  to  believe 
I  had  trifled  with  her.  In  her  soul  I  think  she 
must  have  known  better. 

Meantime  I  submitted,  for  Hester's  sake, 
and  barely  tolerated  her  cousin.  She  always 
managed,  however,  to  go  into  church  when  I 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  223 

did,  and  to  wait  till  I  returned,  on  the  pretext  of 
talking  to  some  friend.  She  sat  in  the  rector's 
pew ;  and  as  she  was  of  a  more  social  tempera- 
ment than  Hester,  who  was  too  much  given  to 
studying  people  while  talking  with  them,  she 
made  a  great  many  more  acquaintances,  with 
whom  she  conversed  wholly  about  me.  The  old, 
foolish  gossip  was  renewed.  People  looked  at 
each  other  significantly,  and  involuntarily  smiled 
whenever  I  spoke  with  her. 

Unwittingly  I  overheard  something  of  this 
on  one  occasion.  I  had  gone  into  the  large  re- 
cess, curtained  off  from  my  study,  to  take  off 
my  surplice,  one  day,  after  a  baptismal  cere- 
mony. While  there,  I  happened  to  come  across 
an  old  book  I  had  long  searched  for  among  my 
collection,  but  had  missed;  and,  opening  it 
after  I  had  hung  up  my  robe,  I  stood  near  the 
window,  reading  sentence  after  sentence  on  a 
subject  of  absorbing  interest. 

"He's  not  here,"  said  one  of  the  two  ladies 
who  came  into  the  study  a  moment  after. 
"We'll  wait  a  moment;  and,  if  he  don't  come, 
we  will  go." 

Now,  it  happened  that  I  had  special  reasons 
for  not  wishing  to  see  these  people,  who  were 
of  the  same  stamp  as  Mrs.  Dickory,  only  they 
had  been  polished  —  or  varnished  —  in  a  some- 
what higher  style.  I  thought  to  myself,  as  I 


224  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

had  most  entertaining  reading,  that  I  would  re- 
main quiet,  hoping  that  they  would  go. 

"Queer  about  that  Miss  Hope,  isn't  it?" 
one  of  the  women  questioned,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Yes:  it's  often  the  way  when  " — and  then 
followed  whispering  which  I  could  not  hear. 

"  They  say  it's  an  old  flame  of  his,"  said  the 
other. 

"  Oh,  no !  it  was  while  the  engagement  was 
on  with  Miss  Vaughan.  People  talked  a  good 
deal.  I  have  been  told  that  he  gave  her  a  ring, 
and  courted  her  in  right  down  earnest.  People 
who  know  her  very  well,  tell  me  so.  It  was  a 
blow  to  her  when  'he  married  her  cousin :  I 
know  that.  And  now  it's  plain  to  be  seen 
which  he  likes  best.  Why,  he  who  runs  may 
read." 

I  opened  the  curtain. 

"Ladies,"  I  said,  "you  may  say  what  you 
will  about  me,  but  my  wife  shall  not  be  in- 
sulted." I  would  have  said  more;  but,  with  a 
double  cry  of  dismay,  the  women  fled. 

I  followed  this  up  on  the  next  Sunday  with  a 
sermon  on  slander,  in  which  I  lashed  the  gos- 
sips right  and  left ;  but  my  jighteous  indigna- 
tion was  probably  lost  upon  those  for  whom  I 
intended  it.  Certainly  I  never  had  more  com- 
pliments than  for  this  "most  masterly  sermon  !" 
I  could  have  taken  to  my  bed  in  sheer  disgust. 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  225 

"  The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man,"  the 
poet  says.  God  help  the  students,  in  the  pulpit 
and  out ! 

And  yet,  there  were  men  and  women  in  that 
congregation  from  whose  beaming  faces  I  often 
borrowed  my  inspiration.  They  were  not  of 
the  rich,  seldom  of  the  learned.  Some  of  them 
occupied  the  seats  that  were  nearest  the  door, 
and  some  of  them  sat  in  the  free  seats.  I  knew 
what  the  grasp  of  their  hands  meant :  their 
words  outweighed  gold  to  me.  I  saw  upon 
their  careworn  brows  the  imprint  of  the  Father, 
the  peace  of  the  Son.  By  their  humble  firesides 
I  tasted  ambrosia,  and  their  homely  words  were 
as  the  steps  of  shining  ladders  that  led  up  into 
the  light  of  the  glory  of  the  Unseen.  They 
had  been  "acquainted  with  grief,"  like  their 
Master ;  and  the  discipline  of  sorrow  had  made 
them  saints. 

How  to  be  rid  of  this  terrible  shadow  which 
darkened  my  home  and  threatened  my  peace  ? 
It  was  a  penance  for  me  now  to  sit  in  my  par- 
lor, to  meet  Miriam  at  the  table  or  in  Hester's 
room.  She  saw  with  her  keen  woman's  eye 
that  I  avoided  her,  even  to-  rudeness ;  but  she 
pursued  the  same  policy.  My  dressing-gown 
was  always  ready  ;  she  followed  after  me  to  see 
if  I  needed  any  friendly  office ;  she  took  it  upon 
herself  to  represent  me  to  strangers;  she  in- 


226  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

censed  me  at  times  almost  to  madness.  And 
yet  for  Hester's  sake  I  must  endure.  I  knew 
what  that  smooth  smile  portended,  with  the 
malice  lying  underneath.  But  I  waited  for  the 
time  when  the  touch  of  baby  fingers  would 
make  my  poor  Hester  forgetful  of  all  else : 
then,  I  resolved,  I  would  tell  her  every  thing, 
and  send  Miriam  away. 

Dolly  was  my  good  angel  through  this  trying 
period.  Her  sisterly  kiss  strengthened  and 
heartened  me,  though  I  could  see  that  she  was 
very  unhappy. 

Twice  she  had  met  Ravaillac,  —  once  in  a 
cathedral,  from  which  she  came  to  me. 

"  He  looked  so  wan  and  white ! "  she  half 
sobbed.  "  It  was  a  hot  afternoon ;  and  I  had 
just  come  from  the  art  school,  feeling  very 
tired,  and  almost  ill.  The  heat  overcame  me, 
and  I  thought  I  should  fall,  when  suddenly  I 
saw  the  cool,  dark  interior  of  the  old  cathedral. 
Knowing  that  it  was  always  open,  I  went  in, 
walked  up  the  wide,  shadowed  aisle  checkered 
with  dim  blocks  of  color  from  the  stained  win- 
dows, and  presently  I  went  into  a  stately  kind 
of  pew,  and  there  knelt  down.  When  I  looked 
up,  somebody  was  kneeling  beside  me.  I  knew 
him  in  a  moment,  and  my  heart  almost  stood 
still.  He  turned,  and  looked  at  me.  O  Hal !  I 
shall  never  forget  that  look !  "  she  half  sobbed, 
as  she  hid  her  tears  on  my  shoulder. 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  22/ 

"  He  didn't  speak :  he  only  looked.  And 
presently  he  got  up,  moved  reluctantly  away, 
and  went  out  of  the  cathedral,  t  —  too  m  — 
much  of  a  gen  —  gentleman  to  speak,  unless 
I  —  gave  —  permission,"  she  sobbed.  From 
which  I  gathered  that  she  would  not  have  been 
very  angry  if  he  had  spoken. 

I  met  him  myself  not  long  after  that ;  and 
the  pallor  of  his  face,  the  unnatural  brilliancy 
of  his  eyes,  shocked  me. 

"  I  really  am  very  sorry  for  this  thing,  Ra- 
vaillac,"  I  said.  "  If  I  could  mend  matters,  I 
certainly  would." 

"  It  is  of  my  own  fault,"  he  made  reply,  sadly ; 
"but,  my  God !  I  cannot  live  without  her.  It 
is  killing  me  !  " 

Not  long  after  that,  an  item  of  painful  inter- 
est was  chronicled.  Ravaillac  was  accidentally 
shot,  so  the  newspaper  report  said,  but  the 
wound  proved  to  be  not  dangerous.  All  these 
days  Dolly  moved  round  the  rectory  like  a 
ghost,  slowly,  with  pained  eyes  and  parted  lips. 
Only  now  and  then  she  came  and  sat  down  be- 
side me  when  I  was  reading,  and  I  knew  how 
she  longed  for  comfort  and  companionship. 
Yet,  when  I  essayed  the  former,  she  shrank 
from  me ;  and  so  I  found  that  silence  suited 
her  best.  One  day  she  came  to  me  smiling, 
with  the  tears  in  her  eyes. 


228  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

"  See,  he  has  written  to  me,"  she  said,  "  and 
you  may  read  it." 

She  sat  down,  leaning  her  head  on  my  shoul- 
der while  I  read.  My  eye  lighted  on  this  par- 
agraph. 

"It  was  no  chance  shot :  I  deliberately  tried  to  end 
my  life.  You,  and  you  alone,  shall  know  the  truth. 
Since  then,  I  am  ashamed.  God  gave  me  the  life  which 
should  be  spent  in  his  service.  I  have  decided*  to  go  to 
my  beloved  country,  alone  —  to  live  alone,  and  in  works 
of  mercy  and  charity  try  to  forget.  Forget !  mon  Dieu, 
never !  But  I  will  at  least  be  a  man  !  " 

"  There  is  more  in  Ravaillac  than  I  thought," 
I  said.  "Don't  you  see  it  is  the  best  thing  he 
could  do?" 

"  Oh  !  I  suppose  it  is  —  he  seems  to  think  it 
best,"  she  said  in  a  very  faint  voice.  "  Yes,  it 
is  best,  on  the  whole  —  for  I  suppose"  —  the 
increasing  weight  of  her  head  upon  my  shoul- 
der alarmed  me.  I  looked  round  at  Dolly.  She 
had  fainted. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  22Q 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

"  A  word  fitly  spoken, 
How  good  it  is  1 " 

THE  next  few  months  seemed  marked  with 
disaster.  One  of  my  wardens,  a  jolly, 
worldly  fellow,  —  for  we  do  not  choose  those 
officers  because  of  ecclesiastical  fitness, — came 
to  me  one  day,  wearing  an  absent  expression  so 
markedly  foreign  to  his  ordinary  appearance, 
that  I  was  anxious  at  once  to  know  with  what 
errand  he  had  been  charged,  or  had  charged 
himself. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  said  in  his  brusque 
way,  "  I  expect  you  will  tell  me  to  mind  my  own 
business,  or  perhaps  pitch  me  out  of  the  study. 
But  I  couldn't  hear  of  these  things,  you  know, 
and  not  go  in.  Why,  I've  had  no  end  of  rows 
on  your  account ;  and  I'll  be  blamed  if  I  don't 
knock  down  the  next  infernal  rascal  who  dares 
to  wag  his  tongue  about  you  !  " 

My  experience  had  prepared  me  to  divine  his 
meaning. 

"  I  see,"  I  said  :  "  some  of  my  parishioners 


23O  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

have  been  making  a  too  free  use  of  my  name. 
I  could  tell  you  exactly  what  has  been  said.  If 
they  had  come  to  me  in  the  first  place,  I  could 
easily  have  enlightened  them ;  but  they  chose 
to  stab  me  in  the  dark." 

"  I  know  it ;  and,  after  all,  it's  only  a  few  of 
the  mischief-makers,  with  Mrs.  Stanley  at  the 
head,  and  Mrs.  Dickory  at  the  bottom." 

"  Ah !  that  woman,  Mrs.  Stanley,  has  never 
forgiven  me." 

"  She  never  will,  particularly  as  she  has  failed 
of  her  long-cherished  purpose,"  was  the  rejoin- 
der. "  Tom  Tracy  has  cut  her  dead,  as  the 
saying  is.  He  has  gone  to  the  Epiphany,  to 
sing ;  and  she  has  no  one  to  put  on  her  shawl, 
or  to  tie  her  shoe-lacings  if  she  wears  'em.  I 
don't  really,  upon  my  soul,  think  Tom  ever 
meant  any  harm.  He's  a  queer  fellow,  is 
Tom  ;  and,  once  suspected,  his  pride  made  it 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  give  in  :  and  my 
wife  thinks,  that  if  he  had  been  a  little  less 
cold-natured,  and  had  frankly  admitted  to  his 
wife,  that,  as  the  people  had  been  talking  about 
him,  he'd  give  'em  something  to  talk  about,  and 
let  her  see  the  curious  and  perhaps  mixed  mo- 
tives that  influenced  him,  she  would  not  have 
died  as  she  did.  But  Tom's  a  queer  genius. 
Just  speak  of  Tilly,  and  the  tears  will  come  in 
his  eyes.  Upon  my  soul,  I  believe  the  fellow 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  23! 

thinks  he  was  more  sinned  against  than  sin- 
ning. Lord !  my  wife  knows,  if  I  go  down 
street  for  a  pound  of  shingle-nails,  what  I'm 
going  for.  You  see,  I  found  out  at  first  that  it 
wouldn't  do  to  have  a  divided  household  —  rea- 
soned it  out  on  this  plane.  Man  and  wife  are 
one,  consequently  I  have  no  right  to  keep  even 
matters  of  business  from  Liza.  Tell  you  what, 
she  has  tided  me  over  some  mighty  tough  places, 
just  because  she  knew  when  business  went 
wrong.  A  fellow  needn't  put  the  full  weight  of 
his  miseries  and  mistakes  upon  her ;  but  it's 
best  to  go  on  the  principle  that  a  firm  is  bound 
to  hold  by  each  other,  to  retrench  when  neces- 
sary, to  keep  the  balance-sheet  correctly,  and  to 
have  no  secrets.  That's  what  I  call  fair  and 
square,  and  a  man  ain't  half  a  man  that  don't 
do  it." 

I  winced  under  the  rude  eloquence  of  my 
junior  warden,  though  the  humor  of  telling 
"  Liza  "  made  me  smile.  His  wife  was  a  little 
round  woman,  with  the  roses  of  sixteen  and  the 
smile  of  a  baby ;  and  she  had  never  seemed  to 
me  like  a  woman  who  had  a  care  in  the  world, 
or  who  could  manage  a  household  :  while  Hester 
was  my  ideal  of  a  noble  woman  nobly  planned, 
and  yet  I  had  shrunk  from  making  her  a  confi- 
dante in  so  many  cases  where  she  could  have 
aided  me.  I  trembled  when  I  thought  of  one, 


232  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

the  most  important  business  mistake  I  had  ever 
made,  and  that  threatened  me  in  the  near  future 
with  a  serious  loss.  I  had  gone  security  for  a 
man  of  whom,  nearly  a  year  before,  Hester  had 
expressed  herself  as  distrustful,  though  anxious 
that  I  should  aid  him  in  his  task  of  self-reform. 

"  Do  what  you  can  for  him,  but  don't  give 
him  money,"  she  had  said.  "  He  is  bound  to 
live  on  his  friends." 

Of  course  I  had  not  told  Hester ;  and  I  ex- 
pected to  find  myself  in  that  unfortunate  posi- 
tion, where,  my  salary  all  taken  to  pay  the  debts 
of  a  dishonest  man,  as  I  found  him  to  be,  I  must 
humiliate  myself  to  make  known  my  weakness 
in  the  character  of  a  supplicant  to  my  wife. 
How  much  better  if  I  had  asked,  and  acted 
upon,  her  advice ! 

"And  they  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that 
somebody  opened  the  door  upon  you  in  your 
study  one  day,  and  —  well,  I  might  as  well  out 
with  it  —  found  you  with  her  arms  about  your 
neck." 

I  started  from  my  chair. 

"  This  is  infernal ! "  I  remembered  the  inci- 
dent and  Dolly's  innocent  caresses.  Dear  little 
Dolly  !  who  only  staid  at  the  rectory  for  my  sake ; 
who  was  as  much  incensed  against  Miriam,  for 
taking  advantage  of  poor  Hester's  weakness 
and  nervousness,  as  I  could  be,  and  who  felt  the 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  233 

gradual  estrangement  that  seemed  coming  over 
Hester,  almost  as  keenly  as  myself. 

I  told  him  the  whole  story,  and  threatened  to 
resign. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  think  of  such  a 
thing ! "  said  my  friend.  "  This  matter  will 
right  itself :  leave  it  with  me.  I'm  glad  I  know 
how  it  all  came  about,  and  I'll  frighten  Dickory 
and  Company  nearly  out  of  their  wits.  Just 
leave  it  to  me.  Think  no  more  about  it ;  don't 
preach  as  if  you  noticed  it ;  just  go  right  on  with 
your  duties,  and  we'll  have  it  all  straightened  out 
in  a  twinkling.  You  stick  to  the  pulpit,  and  I'll 
stick  to  the  preacher.  There's  only  one  of  the 
vestry  has  lent  an  ear  to  this  thing,  and  he 
would  die  if  he  didn't  have  a  chance  to  suspect 
somebody.  He  made  most  of  the  trouble  about 
Tom  Tracy  —  though  I  don't  defend  Tom. 
Tom  did  wrong ;  and  I  think  he  sees  it  now, 
and  would  own  it  like  a  man.  There's  good  in 
Tom,  and  I'm  half  sorry  he  was  driven  away  ; 
but  there  must  be  a  storm  now  and  then,  I  sup- 
pose, to  clear  the  atmosphere :  and  ministers 
ain't  no  more  exempt  than  other  men,  if  they 
do  live  on  a  little  higher  plane  than  we  folks  in 
the  pews.  You  see,  they're  expected  to  be  such 
a  super-angelic  sort  of  persons,  especially  by 
the  women-folks,  that  the  least  hint  of  a  smudge 
leaves  a  black  mark.  Now,  just  don't  you 
trouble  yourself  about  it." 


234  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

Indeed,  I  had  neither  the  time  nor  the  incli- 
nation to  pursue  the  matter,  and  gladly  left 
myself  in  the  hands  of  my  friends.  Hester's  in- 
creasing weakness  alarmed  me.  She  was  so 
changed,  that  though  I  looked  for  a  difference, 
even  perhaps  in  mentality,  I  was  not  prepared 
to  find  my  presence  forbidden,  with  the  knowl- 
edge conveyed  to  me  by  Miriam  that  my  com- 
pany was  not  at  all  times  agreeable. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that  all  the 
savage  in  me  came  to  the  surface ;  and,  with  a 
glance  at  the  disturbing  element  that  for  the 
first  time  cowed  her,  I  passed  her,  and  went 
resolutely  into  the  sitting-room  of  my  wife. 

She  was  very  pale,  but  a  delicate  tinge  of  red 
touched  her  cheeks  as  she  looked  up  from  the 
depths  of  the  great  lounging-chair,  which  I  had 
placed  there  with  my  own  hands  for  her  com- 
fort. In  her  grasp  was  a  daintily  bound  book, 
just  from  the  press,  Dolly's  first  literary  venture 
of  the  kind ;  and  her  sewing  lay  by  her  side  on 
a  low  table. 

I  kissed  her  :  she  did  not  return  the  kiss. 

"  Miriam  said  you  were  not  so  well,  my  dar- 
ling," was  my  first  remark,  adding  playfully, 
"that  you  didn't  even  wish  to  see  me." 

"  Miriam  was  right,"  said  Hester  coldly ;  and 
my  heart  sank. 

"What  have  I  done,  dear? "  I  ventured  to  ask. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  235 

"Oh  !  —  nothing  —  except  that  you  treat  dear 
Miriam  very  unkindly  —  and  —  I  —  owe  every 
thing  to  her  !  " 

"  Owe  every  thing  to  Miriam  !  —  Miriam  seems 
to  be  the  motive-power  in  this  household.  I 
beg  you  to  remember,  Hester,  that  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  in  the  matter,  although  I  brought 
you  nothing,  and  you  brought  me  all.  I  am 
your  husband,  Hester  !  " 

Her  lips  trembled,  and  her  pallor  increased. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  dislike  my  cousin  so  much  : 
—  there  was  a  time — when"  —  she  struggled 
violently  to  master  her  emotion.  As  in  a  light- 
ning-flash, I  saw  it  all  revealed  —  the  cruelty  and 
perfidy  of  Miriam.  What  had  she  not  told  her  ? 
Hester  had  grown  deadly  pale.  I  put  my  arms 
out  to  infold  her;  but  with  a  terrible  cry  she 
motioned  me  away,  and  then  lay  like  one  dead. 

Then  came  the  trial  time, —  a  darkened  house, 
stealthy  footsteps,  whispering  voices,  and  finally 
the  anguish  of  bending  over  a  little  image  of  my 
Hester,  cold  and  white,  beautiful  as  an  angel, 
yet  never  to  answer  to  love-words  of  mine,  or  of 
my  poor,  unconscious  wife.  For  weeks  Hester's 
life  was  despaired  of :  for  months  she  was  a 
helpless  invalid,  cared  for  by  Miriam  —  always 
by  Miriam. 

I  buried  myself  among  my  books.  Dolly 
came  in  the  study,  and  wrote  beside  me,  night 


236  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

after  night.  We  two  were  now,  more  than 
ever,  all  the  world  to  each  other.  Miriam's 
beauty  seemed  sometimes  almost  unearthly  in 
its  demon-like  quality.  The  blaze  of  gratified 
vengeance  shone  in  her  eyes.  She  took  the 
reins  in  her  own  hands,  and  was  virtually  mis- 
tress of  the  house.  Dolly  and  I  talked  it  over, 
but  we  could  come  to  no  satisfactory  conclusion. 
Even  when  Hester  was  pronounced  out  of  dan- 
ger, she  received  me  with  a  stolid  calm  that 
shocked  and  shook  me. 

"  Better  to  have  followed  her  to  the  grave," 
I  said  to  Dolly  after  one  of  these  interviews. 
"  My  child  is  buried  out  of  sight,  and  my  wife 
is  dead  to  me.  What  can  be  done  ? " 

"  It  is  all  through  Miriam,"  said  Dolly.  "  Oh  ! 
how  I  hate  falseness  !  "  She  shuddered.  Poor 
little  Dolly !  she,  too,  was  fighting  her  heart's 
battles,  and  finding  her  foes  hard  to  conquer. 
"  There  is  only  one  way,"  she  said,  after  a  little 
pause. 

"  And  what  is  that  ? " 

"  Dismiss  Miriam  at  once.  I  would  not  have 
counselled  that  before,  but  Hester  is  getting 
stronger.  She  will  never  be  quite  well,  I  think, 
till  Miriam  is  gone." 

"  But  how  to  do  it  ?  She  will  fly  to  Hester, 
disturb  her  peace,  work  upon  her  sympathy :  in 
what  way  can  I  dismiss  her  ?  Hester  is  com- 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 


pletely  dominated,  in  her  weak  state,  by  Mir- 
iam's powerful  will." 

"  You  must  not  allow  her  to  see  Hester." 

"  She  will.  I  can't  lay  hands  on  a  woman,  as 
I  could  if  my  opponent  were  a  man,  and  put  her 
out  of  the  house." 

"  I  think  you  can  manage  it,"  Dolly  persisted. 
"I  would." 

"What  plan  have  you  thought  of?"  I  que- 
ried, quite  willing  to  be  guided  by  a  woman's 
judgment. 

"  I  would  lock  the  door  the  first  evening  she 
goes  out,  muffle  or  remove  the  door-bell,  put  her 
trunks  outside,  and  have  a  carriage  waiting  at 
the  gate,  just  as  if  she  had  arranged  a  journey. 
Her  pride  will  not  let  her  stay  waiting  long." 

"  But  her  belongings  ?  " 

"  She  keeps  every  thing  in  trunks.  She  is 
very  much  afraid  of  the  servants  ;  and  all  her 
things,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  articles,  are 
locked  up.  That  is  fortunate." 

"But  how  will  it  sound  abroad  —  that  I  turned 
my  wife's  cousin  out  of  the  house  ?  " 

"  It  will  never  be  lisped.  I  know  Miriam 
well  enough  for  that.  You  have  got  to  use 
harsh  measures.  Once  she  sees  herself  mas- 
tered and  helpless,  there  is  an  end  to  it.  The 
treacherous  are  seldom  brave.  She  will  not  even 
seem  to  bear  you  malice,  take  my  word  for  it." 


238  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"  But  where  will  she  go  ? " 

"What  do  you  care  where  she  goes?  She 
has  friends  :  let  her  use  them.  I  have  not  a 
particle  of  pity  for  her.  To  think  how  she  has 
abused  your  confidence,  murdered  your  child  "  — 

"Hush,  Dolly!" 

"  It  is  simple  truth,"  said  Dolly.  "  You  will 
have  to  win  Hester  all  over  again  —  but  you  can 
do  it ;  "  and  she  made  a  little  triumphal  flourish 
with  her  pen.  "  If  Hester  had  been  herself, 
this  never  would  have  happened,  poor  child ! 
Now  she  only  remembers  the  near  past,  and 
Miriam  is  a  part  of  it.  I  really  think,  to  save 
Hester's  life,  Miriam  must  go.  Let  us  keep 
it  all  hidden  in  our  hearts,  and  leave  that  wo- 
man to  God.  No  one  need  ever  know  what  she 
has  been  to  us,  or  why  she  goes." 

"  Dolly,  I  believe  you  are  a  wise  little  coun- 
sellor," I  said.  "  Hester  may  suffer  less  than 
we  fear."  The  plan  began  to  shape  itself  to  my 
mind,  and  I  took  great  delight  in  dwelling  upon 
it.  And  this  woman,  who  had  plotted  against 
my  happiness,  took  holy  communion  from  my 
hands,  and  drank  the  wine  consecrated  to  be- 
lievers ! 

I  have  often  blessed  God  for  the  fact,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  that,  among  the  twelve  whose 
office  was  the  regeneration  of  the  world,  a  Judas 
was  allowed  to  mingle  his  unholy  ministrations. 


TELL   YOUR   WIFE.  239 

It  has  kept  my  faith  when  I  have  seen  the  of- 
fices of  our  holy  religion  made  subservient  to 
greed  and  lust  and  hypocrisy.  There  be  saints 
and  saints ;  and  if  you  will  give  me  a  hearty, 
whole-souled  sinner  —  reputedly  —  in  the  place 
of  some  of  these  latter,  I  shall  preach  the  gos- 
pel to  better  acceptance. 


24O  TELL   YOUR  WIFE. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

"  At  last  the  peace  of  perfect  love, 
No  doubt  our  rest  disturbing." 

DOLLY  and  I  held  our  peace  like  the  couple 
of  conspirators  we  were,  only  now  and  then 
Dolly  begged  me  to  try  and  seem  more  natural. 
"  One  would  think  you  were  plotting  terrible 
things,"  she  said,  "  while  in  reality  you  are  only 
saving  your  family  peace  by  using  a  little  strat- 

egy." 

"  I  cannot  appear  at  my  ease  where  Miriam 
is,"  was  my  answer.  "  I  shall  never  draw  a 
happy  breath  till  she  is  clean  gone.  But  she 
never  goes  out." 

"Oh!  the  time  will  come,"  said  Dolly;  "be 
patient.  I  know  she  will  go  out  some  evening 
this  week,  when  her  cousin  is  asleep,  and  'must 
not  be  disturbed.'  I  can  hear  her  say  it.  She 
would  not  leave  her  alone  while  awake,  for  the 
world." 

The  time  did  come.  There  was  to  be  a  ser- 
vice ;  but,  luckily,  Dolly  did  not  attend  church 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  24! 

that  evening :  and  equally  lucky  was  it,  that  a 
young  ministerial  brother  visited  me  in  my 
study,  and  consented  to  take  my  place.  Dolly 
came  to  the  study-door  with  the  glad  news  just 
as  the  bell  was  tolling ;  and  I  excused  myself  to 
my  friend,  and  hurried  into  the  house.  In  less 
than  an  hour  Miriam's  trunks  were  set  out  in 
the  yard,  the  service  was  over,  the  church  and 
rectory  locked,  and  a  coachman  standing  at  the 
gate-entrance,  to  be  paid  by  the  hour,  even  if 
he  staid  there  all  night. 

Dolly  and  I  remained  in  the  front  parlor  till 
the  veiled  figure  of  Miriam  came  up  the  walk, 
and  paused  at  the  strange  sight  that  met  her 
gaze.  Then  she  mounted  the  steps,  and  rang 
the  door-bell.  No  sound.  The  bell  was  care- 
fully muffled,  as  it  had  been  many  and  many  a 
day  of  her  evil  ministration,  when  her  victim 
lay  unconscious,  and  apparently  dying. 

At  last  she  seemed  to  comprehend  that  she 
was  out-generalled.  She  stood  irresolute  for  a 
moment,  ran  down  the  steps,  mounted  them 
again,  made  a  gesture  of  superb  disdain,  and, 
as  Dolly  had  conjectured  she  would,  submitted 
to  the  inevitable  with  the  best  grace  she  could ; 
and  presently  the  carriage  rolled  away,  and  a 
great  load  of  care  rolled  off  my  heart.  Once 
more  home  was  home !  Oh,  how  happy  I  felt 
moving  through  the  pleasant  rooms  with  Dolly 


242  TELL   YOUR   WIFE. 

by  my  side  !  Never  should  that  woman  step 
over  the  threshold  of  my  door  again.  All  the 
evil  of  our  human  nature  seemed  to  me  person- 
ified in  that  evil,  beautiful  figure  and  face.  The 
very  recollection  of  her  gifts  and  graces  kin- 
dled me  to  wrath.  Hester  was  no  longer  to  be 
divided  in  her  affection,  her  care,  her  duties ; 
she  was  all  mine :  and  the  old  love  came  up  in 
my  heart,  like  a  flame  newly  kindled,  as  I  crept 
up-stairs,  only  to  look  upon  Hester's  thin  white 
face  as  she  slept. 

Poor  child !  she  was  but  the  shadow  of  her 
former  self.  Her  hand,  resting  on  the  white 
cover ;  her  cheek,  rivalling  the  pillow  in  white- 
ness ;  the  long,  thick  lashes  casting  a  heavy 
shadow  on  the  pallor  beneath  them  ;  her  pretty, 
childlike  lips  parted,  and  her  teeth  glistening  in 
the  dim  light — how  my  heart  ached  as  I  thought 
of  all  she  had  suffered  ! 

She  stirred  a  little  as  I  stood  there, —  I  hoped 
she  would  wake,  —  and  from  her  lips  came  a 
moan;  but  it  sounded  like  "Miriam,"  and 'I 
turned  away. 

What  a  sense  of  triumph  was  mine  as  the 
memories  of  the  past  crowded  thickly  upon  my 
brain  !  I  was  master  now,  alike  of  my  home 
and  my  wife,  —  master,  I  mean,  in  the  sense  of 
possession  only. 

I  moved  a  step  farther,  and  the  hot  tears 


TELL    YOUR   WIFE.  243 

rushed  to  my  eyes  as  they  fell  on  the  beautiful 
little  cradle  that  I  had  purchased  after  days  of 
search  for  something  fitting  for  such  a  treasure. 
There  it  stood,  pure  white,  its  canopy  edged 
with  costly  lace,  its  silken  cover  pitifully  smooth 
and  straight.  And  there  beside  it  was  the 
dainty  baby-basket,  all  the  work  of  Hester's 
fingers,  but  every  thing  as  polished,  as  perfect, 
as  intact,  as  the  day  she  finished  her  pretty 
work  "for  baby." 

It  was  with  real  heart-ache  I  turned  away, 
and  sought  my  own  room,  that  looked  no  longer 
cheerless  and  deserted,  but  filled  with  a  dream- 
like presence. 

In  the  morning  the  delightful  consciousness 
flowed  in  upon  me  with  the  first  sense  of  day- 
light and  sunshine,  that  the  hated  incubus  was 
gone.  Heretofore  I  had  dawdled  over  every 
duty :  now  my  fingers  flew.  I  longed  to  get 
down-stairs,  and  throw  all  the  house  open. 
Dolly  met  me.  She  had  been  up  in  Hester's 
room,  and  looked  a  little  grave. 

"  Of  course  there  were  many  things  to  do," 
she  said,  "  and  Miriam  was  a  good  nurse. 
Hester  was  astonished,  and  asked  for  her  as 
soon  as  I  came  in.  I  told  her  Miriam  had  gone 
the  night  before,  and  had  not  yet  returned. 
Would  I  do?  She  used  to  like  to  have  me 
comb  her  hair.  No,  she  would  wait  for  Miriam. 


244  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

Meantime  I  knew  what  was  always  prepared  for 
her  breakfast ;  and,  when  the  time  came,  I  car- 
ried it  up-stairs.  Hester  was  nervous,  and  a 
little  irritable  ;  couldn't  imagine  what  had  come 
over  Miriam.  But  she  took  her  chocolate  and 
oatmeal,  and  ate  a  little.  Then  she  allowed  me 
to  arrange  her  hair,  but  seemed  very  thoughtful. 
All  at  once  she  threw  her  hands  up,  saying,  — 

" '  I  see  it !  I  see  it  all !  you  have  sent  Mir- 
iam away.  You  were  meanly  jealous  of  the 
poor  child,  and  I  shall  never  see  her  again.' 

"With  that  she  just  fell  over  on  the  pillow, 
and  began  to  cry,  and  beg  Miriam  to  come  back, 
till  I  was  frightened.  I  left  her  that  way. 
What  is  to  be  done  now  ?  I  have  been  asking 
myself  whether  you  had  better  go  up  and  try 
to  soothe  her.  We  shall  have  her  ill  again." 

What  would  be  the  end  of  this  complication 
of  affairs,  it  was  difficult  to  foresee.  Hester 
was  so  changed  and  so  weak  from  her  long  ill- 
ness, that  it  was  perhaps  as  much  as  her  life 
was  worth  to  cross  her  now ;  and  I  hardly  knew 
what  to  do.  It  is  a  curious  situation  for  a  man 
to  be  in,  when  he  dares  not  venture  into  the 
presence  of  his  own  wife,  or  goes  there  with  fear 
and  trembling,  as  I  did. 

Opening  the  door,  I  saw  that  Hester  was 
still  prostrate  with  grief,  and  lay  there  softly 
sobbing. 


TELL   YOUR  WIFE.  245 

"  Hester !  "  I  said. 

She  did  not  move,  only  buried  her  face 
deeper  in  the  pillow. 

"My  dear  little  wife!" 

I  took  her  fingers,  but  she  threw  my  grasp 
aside ;  and  for  some  time  I  sat  there  in  silence, 
anxious  and  perplexed. 

"  Can  this  be  the  dear  girl  that  I  married  ? " 
I  asked  softly. 

She  lifted  herself,  her  eyes  ablaze,  the  crim- 
son of  fever  in  her  cheeks. 

"Yes,  yes!  you  married  me  —  but  you  loved 
Miriam  Hope !  O  Hal !  how  could  you  be  so 
cruel  ?  How  dared  you  ? " 

For  the  moment  I  was  utterly  incapable  of 
reply.  My  heart  beat  heavily,  and  I  could  feel 
its  pulsations  all  over  my  body.  Such  an  ex- 
traordinary assertion !  so  utterly  false !  and 
from  Hester's  lips  !  What  damning  evidence  had 
Miriam  given  to  justify  such  language  and  such 
defiance  ?  What  had  not  my  wife  suffered  ?  my 
poor  darling !  With  all  my  anger,  I  pitied  her. 

"What  has  that  woman  been  telling  you, 
Hester  ? "  I  asked,  after  a  pause,  as  calmly  as  I 
could. 

"All  your  falseness,  your  duplicity  —  your 
cruelty  —  and  you  a  minister  of  Christ !  " 

Her  words  went  straight  to  my  heart. 

"  If  /  had  only  told  you  all ! "  I  groaned. 


246  TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

"  What !  there  is  worse  ? "  she  cried  with  a 
look  of  horror. 

"  No,  Hester :  there  is  no  crime  on  my  soul, 
unless  it  be  that  of  having  loved  my  wife  too 
well,"  I  made  reply.  And  then,  made  eloquent 
by  the  exigency  of  the  circumstances,  I  poured 
out  my  whole  heart.  I  told  her  every  thing,  — 
of  my  weakness,  not  infidelity;  of  my  want  of 
true  manhood,  my  vanity;  of  Miriam's  dupli- 
city, her  confessions,  her  recriminations, — till 
the  tables  were 'turned,  and  I  had  proved  it  was 
I  who  suffered,  who  had  been  wronged.  When 
Hester  saw  all, — and  she  did,  —  I  had  won  my 
wife  back.  When  she  saw  all,  she  saw  treason 
and  treachery  of  the  blackest.  She  saw  that 
her  life  had  been  poisoned  at  the  very  fountain- 
head  by  her  cousin's  baseness,  and  her  little 
babe  paid  with  its  life  the  penalty  of  her  own 
rash  credence.  Not  for  worlds  would  she  have 
had  Miriam  back. 

"  Oh,  it  has  been  such  a  night  of  horrors ! " 
she  said,  her  dear  head  resting  in  its  olden 
place  upon  my  bosom.  "  But  you  will  forgive 
me  —  we  shall  be  happy  again  ? " 

"  Yes,"  I  made  reply,  "  now  that  our  home  is 
purified,  and  my  wife  has  come  back  to  me." 

"  O  Hal !  and  I  tried  to  think  I  hated  you," 
she  sobbed. 

It  seemed  as  if  that  were  a  day  of  wonders. 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE.  247 

Dolly  brought  me  a  letter  written  in  the  quaint- 
est English,  which  proved  to  be  from  the  old 
grandmother  of  Mr.  Ravaillac.  It  besought 
Dolly  to  have  pity  on  her  grandson,  the  dear 
child  of  her  old  age,  who  was,  ah !  so  unhappy, 
so  wretched,  so  penitent,  and  who  had  confessed 
all  to  her.  She  spoke  in  terms  most  eloquent 
of  his  goodness  to  her,  his  virtues,  his  tender- 
ness, and  ended  by  an  allusion  to  their  family 
name,  which  was  old,  and  had  been  famous, 
though  they  had  no  escutcheon  of  nobility. 

"Shall  you  answer  it,  dear?"  I  asked. 

"I  —  think  I  will,"  she  said,  smiling.  " You 
see,  I  have  been  in  correspondence  with  —  him 
—  since  he  went  to  France  —  just  friendly  let- 
ters —  and  —  well,  he  is  coming  back  to  Amer- 
ica." 

I  kissed  Dolly,  for  I  was  very  glad. 

I  am  still  at  old  St.  John's.  My  people  love 
me.  I  have  buried  their  dead,  married  their 
children,  visited  their  poor,  sick,  and  dying,  for 
the  last  ten  years.  Many  of  the  old  people 
have  passed  to  their  long  home.  Many  of  the 
younger  have  moved  to  other  places.  Of  those 
who  remain,  Mrs.  Dickory  still  files  into  church 
with  her  train  of  children,  in  all  eight  or  nine, 
and -performs  the  most  unaccountable  antics  all 
through  service  and  sermon.  But  I  have  only 
to  raise  my  eyes  to  see  two  golden  heads,  my 


248  TELL    YOUR   WIFE. 

own  blue-eyed  darlings,  Hester  seven,  Dolly 
five,  who  sit  so  demurely,  hiding  all  their  little 
rogues'-tricks  under  the  prim  bonnets  and 
pretty  Sunday  garments,  and  I  forget  Mrs. 
Dickory  and  the  Dickory  brood. 

Tom  Tracy  has  come  back,  repentant,  into 
the  fold  of  the  church  ;  and  he  sings  as  delight- 
fully as  when  in  the  old  days  he  vexed  the  souls 
of  the  righteous,  even  as  he  drew  their  hearts 
out  with  his  marvellously  sweet  voice. 

Marguerite  is  away  at  school,  and  never  hints 
now  of  her  visions  or  fantasies,  if  such  they 
were.  For  myself,  I  am  not  prepared  to  decide. 

Miriam  married  a  very  good  man,  but  there  is 
a  rumor  in  the  air  that  she  is  not  happy ;  and  we 
have  lately  learned  that  there  was  insanity  in 
the  Hope  family,  which  accounts  in  a  measure 
for  her  wayward  fancies  and  strange  moods. 
We  seldom  meet. 

Ravaillac  is  on  his  way  to  Paris  for  the  third 
time  since  his  marriage.  Dolly  goes  with  him 
every  voyage,  and  comes  back  to  us  radiant. 
She  is  a  happy  little  woman ;  and,  if  there  is 
any  moral  in  my  story,  it  is  summed  up  in  the 
title  of  this  little  book,  — 

/ 

TELL  YOUR  WIFE. 


MARY  A.   DENISON'S  NOVELS. 

UNIFORM  EDITION.    CLOTH,  $1;  PAPEB,  50  CENTS. 


HIS    TRIUMPH. 

"  A  sprightly  Btory  is  '  His  Triumph,'  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  opens 
with  a  wedding,  and  ends  with  a  renunciation.  We  read  of  two  run- 
aways, of  lovers'  letters,  of  a  haunted  house,  a  debutante,  and  all  of  the 
romance  and  reality  that  pertain  to  a  well-conceived  and  well-told  story. 
Mrs.  Denison  is  a  skilful  story-teller,  and  'His  Triumph'  is  also  her 
triumph."  —  Philadelphia  Keystone. 

LIKE   A    GENTLEMAN. 

"  The  story  of  one  who  drank  '  like  a  gentleman  '  is  one  of  Mrs.  Den- 
Ison's  best  stories.  The  lovers  of  romance  will  pronounce  this  story 
charming,  and  be  all  the  more  pleased  with  it  because  some  of  the  char- 
acters are  purer,  sweeter,  and  nobler  than  are  often  found  in  real  life. 
The  incidents  are  thrilling,  the  plot  interesting,  the  story  well  told." 

ROTHMELL. 

"  The  style  is  clear  and  bright,  abounding  in  little  novel  pictures  and 
delicate  touches.  Kothmell,  the  principal  hero,  is  a  brilliant  surgeon, 
with  a  magnetic  eye,  but  a  penchant  in  earlier  life  for  marrying  rich 
women,  which,  indulged  in,  gives  him  considerable  after  trouble."  — 
Chicago  Inter -Ocean. 

THAT    WIFE    OF    MINE. 

"  There  is  now  and  then  a  touch  of  genuine  pathos.  Its  incidents,  its 
characters,  its  language,  are  of  the  every -day  sort :  but  its  very  sim- 
plicity and  naturalness  give  it  a  charm  to  the  ordinary  reader;  and  it  is 
undeniably  pure  and  healthful  in  its  tone.  We  must  pronounce  '  That 
Wife  of  Mine  '  an  excellent  book  of  its  kind."  —  Boston  Journal. 

THAT   HUSBAND    OF    MINE. 

"  It  is  as  bright  and  cheery  as  a  sunbeam.  Sparkles  like  dewdrops- 
Full  of  good  humor,  with  a  great  deal  of  patience.  It  teaches  you  how 
to  get  a  husband,  how  to  manage  one,  and  how  an  engagement  cau  be 
broken.  It  will  amuse  you  and  make  you  laugh.  After  reading  the  first 
page,  you  will  feel  like  joining  in  the  pursuit  of  '  That  Husband  of 
Mine.'  " 

MR.    PETER    CREWITT. 

" '  Peter  Crewitt,'  from  the  same  house,  is  a  Dickens-sort  of  a  story. 
.  .  .  There  are  passages  of  pathos,  of  moralizing,  of  pointed  ridicule  and 
satire,  that  would  do  credit  to  the  ablest  novelist.  The  average  novel- 
reader  will  become  quite  infatuated  over  '  Peter  Crewitt.'"  —  Advertiser, 
Elmira,  N.Y. 


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THE   DOUGLAS    NOVELS. 

BY  Miss  AMANDA  M.  DOUGLAS. 

Uniform   Volumes.  Price  $1.50  each. 

A  WOMAN'S  INHERITANCE. 

"  Like  all  the  romances  of  Miss  Douglas,  this  story  has  a  fascination 
about  it  which  enchains  the  reader's  attention  until  the  end." — Haiti- 
more  News. 

OUT  OF  THE  WRECK;    or,  was  it  a  Victory? 

"Bright  and  entertaining  as  Miss  Douglas's  stories  always  are,  this, 
her  new  one,  leads  them  all." — New-Bedford  Standard, 

FLOYD    GRANDON'S    HONOR. 

"  Fascinating  throughout,  and  worthy  of  the  reputation  of  the  author." 
—  Philadelphia  Methodist. 

WHOM    KATHIE    MARRIED. 

Kai  hie  was  the  heroine  of  the  popular  series  of  Kathie  Stories  for 
young  people,  the  readers  of  which  were  very  anxious  to  know  with 
•whom  Kathie  settled  down  in  life.  Hence  this  story,  charmingly  written. 

LOST    IN    A    GREAT    CITY. 

"  There  is  the  power  of  delineation  and  robustness  of  expression  that 
•would  credit  a  masculine  hand  in  the  present  volume,  and  the  reader 
will  at  no  stage  of  the  reading  regret  having  commenced  its  perusal.  In 
some  parts  it  is  pathetic,  even  to  eloquence."  —  San  Francisco  Post.  * 

THE    OLD    WOMAN    WHO    LIVED    IN    A    SHOE. 

"  The  romances  of  Miss  Douglas's  creation  are  all  thrillingly  interest- 
ing."—  Cambridge  Tribune. 

HOPE   MILLS ;  or,  Between  Friend,  and  Sweetheart. 
"  Amanda  Douglas  is  one  of  the  favorite  authors  of  American  novel- 
readers."  —  Mane/tester  Mirror. 

FROM    HAND    TO    MOUTH. 

"There  is  real  satisfaction  in  reading  this  book,  from  the  fact  that  we 
•an  BO  readily  '  take  it  home  '  to  ourselves."  —  Portland  Argus. 

NELLY    KINNARD'S    KINGDOM. 

"  The  Hartford  Religious  Herald  "  says,  "  This  story  is  so  fascinating, 
that  one  can  hardly  lay  it  down  after  taking  it  up." 

IN   TRUST;  or,  Dr.  Bertrand's  Household. 
"She  writes  in  a  free,  fresh,  and  natural  way;  and  her  characters  are 
never  overdrawn." —  Manchester  Mirror. 

CLAUDIA. 

"  The  plot  is  very  dramatic,  and  the  dfnoument  startling.  Claudia,  the 
heroine,  is  one  of  those  self-sacrificing  characters  which  it  is  the  glory  of 
the  female  sex  to  produce."  — Boston  Journal. 

STEPHEN    DANE. 

"  This  is  one  of  this  author's  happiest  and  most  successful  attempts  at 
novel-writing,  for  which  a  grateful  public  will  applaud  her."  —  Herald. 

HOME    NOOK ;   or,  the  Crown  of  Duty. 
"  An  interesting  story  of  home-life,  not  wanting  in  incident,  and  written 
in  forcible  and  attractive  style."  — New-  York  Graphic. 

SYDNIE    ADRIANCE ;    or,  Trying  the  World. 
"  The  works  of  Miss  Douglas  have  stood  the  test  of  popular  judgment, 
and  become  the  fashion.     They  are  true,  natural  in  delineation,  pure  and 
elevating  in  their  tone."  — Express,  Easton,  Penn. 

SEVEN    DAUGHTERS. 

The  charm  of  the  story  is  the  perfectly  natural  and  home-like  air  which 
pervades  it.  

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J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE'S  NOVELS. 

NEW   UNIFORM    EDITION. 
FARNELL'S  FOLLY. 

"  As  a  Novel  of  American  Society,  this  book  has  never  been  surpassed. 
Hearty  in  style  and  wholesome  in  tone.  Its  pathos  often  meltingj  to 
tears,  its  humor  always  exciting  merriment." 

CUDJO'S    CAVE. 

Like  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  this  thrilling  story  was  a  stimulating 
power  in  the  civil  war,  and  had  an  immense  sale.  Secretary  Chase,  of 
President  Lincoln's  cabinet,  said  of  it,  "  I  could  not  help  reading  it :  it 
interested  and  impressed  me  profoundly.  ' 

THE    THREE    SCOUTS. 

Another  popular  book  of  the  same  stamp,  of  which  "  The  Boston  Tran- 
script" said,  "It  promiH«s  to  have  a  larger  sale  than  '  Cudjo's  Cave.' 
It  is  impossible  to  open  the  volume  at  any  page  without  being  struck  by 
the  quick  movement  and  pervading  anecdote  of  the  story." 

THE    DRUMMER    BOY. 
A  Story  of  Burnside's  Expedition.    Illustrated  by  F.  O.  C.  DAKLET. 

"  The  most  popular  book  of  the  season.  It  will  sell  without  pushing." 
—  Zion's  Herald. 

MARTIN    MERRIVALE:    His   X   Mark. 

"  Strong  in  humor,  pathos,  and  unabated  interest.  In  none  of  the  books 
Issued  from  the  American  press  can  there  be  found  a  purer  or  more  deli- 
cate sentiment,  a  more  genuine  good  taste,  or  a  nicer  appreciation  and 
brighter  delineation  of  character."  —  English.  Journal. 

NEIGHBOR    JACKWOOD. 

A  story  of  ^few-England  life  in  the  slave-tracking  days.  Dramatized 
for  the  Boston  Museum,  it  had  a  long  run  to  crowded  houses.  The  story 
is  one  of  Trowbridge's  very  best. 

COUPON    BONDS,  and  other  Stories. 

The  leading  story  is  undoubtedly  the  most  popular  of  Trowbridge's 
abort  stories.  The  others  are  varied  m  character,  but  are  either  intensely 
interesting  or  "  highly  amusing." 

NEIGHBORS'    WIVES. 

An  ingenious  and  well-told  story.  Two  neighbors'  wives  are  tempted 
beyond  their  strength  to  resist,  and  steal  each  from  the  other.  One  is 
discovered  in  the  act,  under  ludicrous  and  humiliating  circumstances, 
but  is  generously  pardoned,  with  a  promise  of  secrecy.  Of  course  she 
betrays  her  secret,  and  of  course  perplexities  come.  It  is  a  capital  story. 

12mo.     Cloth.    Price  per  volume,  f  1.60. 


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Miss  VIRGINIA  F.  TOWNSEWS  BOOKS. 


Uniform  Edition.    Cloth.    $1.50  Each. 

BUT    A    PHILISTINE. 

"  Another  novel  by  the  author  of  '  A  Woman's  Word  '  and  '  Lenox 
Dare,'  will  be  warmly  welcomed  by  hosts  of  readers  of  Miss  Townsend's 
stories.  There  is  nothing  of  the  '  sensational,'  or  so-called  realistic, 
school  in  her  writings.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  noted  for  their  healthy 
moral  tone  and  pure  sentiment,  and  yet  are  not  wanting  in  STRIKING 
SITUATIONS  AND  DRAMATIC  INCIDENTS." — Chicago  Journal. 

LENOX    DARE. 

"  Her  stories,  always  sunny  and  healthful,  touch  the  springs  of  social 
life,  and  make  the  reader  better  acquainted  with  this  great  human  organi- 
zation of  which  we  all  form  a  part,  and  tend  to  bring  him  into  more  inti- 
mate sympathy  with  what  is  most  pure  and  noble  in  our  nature.  Among 
the  best  of  her  productions  we  place  the  volume  here  under  notice.  In 
temper  and  tone  the  volume  is  calculated  to  exert  a  healthful  and 
elevating  influence."  —  H eic- England  Methodist. 

DARYLL   GAP ;   or,  Whether  it  Paid. 
A  story  of  the  petroleum  days,  and  of  a  family  who  struck  oil. 
"Miss  Townsend  is  a  very  entertaining  writer,  and,  while  she  enter- 
tains, at  the  same  time  instructs.    Her  plots  are  well  arranged,  and  her 
characters  are  clearly  and  strongly  drawn.    The  present  volume  will  not 
detract  from  the  reputation  she  has  heretofore  enjoyed."  —  Pittsburg 
Recorder. 

A  WOMAN'S  WORD,  AND  HOW  SHE  KEPT  IT. 
"  The  celebrity  of  Virginia  F.  Townsend  as  an  authoress,  her  brilliant 
descriptive  powers,  and  pure,  vigorous  imagination,  will  insure  a  hearty 
welcome  for  the  above-entitled  volume  in  the  writer's  happiest  vein. 
Every  woman  will  understand  the  self-sacrifice  of  Genevieve  Weir,  and 
will  entertain  only  scorn  for  the  miserable  man  who  imbittered  her  life 
to  hide  his  own  wrong-doing." — Fanhion  Quarterly. 

THAT   QUEER   GIRL. 

"  A  fresh,  wholesome  book  about  good  men  and  good  women,  bright 
and  cheery  iu  style,  and  pure  in  morals.  Just  the  book  to  take  a  young 
girl's  fancy,  and  help  her  to  grow  up,  like  Madeline  and  Argia,  into  the 
sweetness  of  real  girlhood;  there  being  more  of  that  same  sweetness 
under  the  fuss  and  feathers  of  the  present  day  than  a  casual  observer 
might  suppose." — People's  Monthly. 

ONLY   GIRLS. 

"This  volume  shows  how  two  persons,  'only  girls,"  saved  two  men 
from  crime,  even  from  ruin  of  body  and  soul;  and  all  this  came  about  ia 
their  lives  without  their  purpose  or  knowledge  at  the  time,  and  not  at  all 
as  they  or  anybody  else  would  have  planned  it;  but  it  comes  about  well 
and  naturally  enough.  The  story  is  ingenious  and  graphic,  and  kept  the 
writer  of  this  notice  up  far  into  the  small  hours  of  yesterday  morning." 
—  Washington  Chronicle. 

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LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


SOPHIE  MAY'S  "GROWN-UP"  BOOKS. 


Uniform,  Binding.    All  Handsomely  Illustrated.    $1.60. 


JANET,   A   POOR   HEIRESS. 

"  The  heroine  of  this  story  is  a  true  girl.  An  imperious,  fault-finding, 
onappreciative  father  alienates  her  love,  and  nearly  ruins  her  temper. 
The  mother  knows  the  father  is  at  fault,  but  does  not  dare  to  say  so. 
Then  comes  a  discovery,  that  she  is  only  an  adopted  daughter;  a  for- 
saking of  the  old  home;  a  life  of  strange  vicissitudes;  a  return;  a  mar- 
riage under  difficulties;  and  a  discovery,  that,  after  all,  she  is  an  heiress. 
The  story  is  certainly  a  very  attractive  one." —  Chicago  Interior. 

THE    DOCTOR'S    DAUGHTER. 

"  Sophie  May,  author  of  the  renowned  Prudy  and  Dotty  books,  has 
achieved  another  triumph  in  the  new  book  with  this  title  just  issued, 
She  has  taken  '  a  new  departure '  this  time,  and  written  a  new  story  for 
grown-up  folks.  If  we  are  not  much  mistaken,  the  young  folks  will 
want  to  read  it,  as  much  as  the  old  folks  want  to  read  the  books  written 
for  the  young  ones.  It  is  a  splendid  story  for  all  ages."  —  Lynn  Semi- 
Weekly  Recorder. 

THE    ASBURY    TWINS. 

"  The  announcement  of  another  work  by  this  charming  and  popular 
writer  will  be  heartily  welcomed  by  the  public.  And  in  this  sensible, 
fascinating  story  of  the  twin-sisters,  'Vic'  aud  '  Van,'  they  have  before 
them  a  genuine  treat.  Vic  writes  her  story  in  one  chapter,  and  Van  in 
the  next,  and  so  on  through  the  book.  Van  is  frank,  honest,  and  practi- 
cal; Vic  wild,  venturesome,  and  witty;  aud  both  of  them  natural  and 
winning.  At  home  or  abroad,  they  are  true  lo  their  individuality,  and 
gee  things  with  their  own  eyes.  It  is  a  fresh,  delightful  volume,  well 
worthy  of  its  gifted  author."  —  Boston  Contributor. 

OUR    HELEN. 

" '  Our  Helen '  is  Sophie  May's  latest  creation ;  and  she  IB  a  bright, 
brave  girl,  that  the  young  people  will  all  like.  We  are  pleased  to  meet 
with  some  old  friends  in  the  book.  It  is  a  good  companion-book  for  the 
'  Doctor's  Daughter,'  and  the  two  should  go  together.  Queer  old  Mrs. 
O'Xeil  still  lives,  to  indulge  in  the  reminiscences  of  the  young  men  of 
Machias ;  and  other  Quiunebasset  people  with  familiar  names  occasionally 
appear,  along  with  new  ones  who  are  worth  knowing.  '  Our  Helen  '  Is  a 
noble  and  unselfish  girl,  but  with  a  mind  and  will  of  her  own;  and  the 
contrast  between  her  and  pretty,  fascinating,  selfish  little  Sharley,  IB  very 
finely  drawn.  Lee  &  Shepard  publish  it."  —  Ilolyoke  Transcript. 

QUINNEBASSET    GIRLS. 

"  The  story  is  a  very  attractive  one,  as  free  from  the  sensational  and 
impossible  as  could  be  desired,  and  at  the  same  time  full  of  interest,  and 
pervaded  by  the  same  bright,  cheery  sunshine  that  we  find  in  the  author's 
earlier  books.  She  is  to  be  congratulated  on  the  success  of  her  essay  in 
a  new  field  of  literature,  to  which  she  will  be  warmly  welcomed  by  those 
who  know  and  admire  her  '  Prudy  Books.'  " 


Sold  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  and  sent  by  mail,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


LEE  AND  SHEPAED'S  BOOKS  OF  TRAVEL. 


GERMANY  SEEN  WITHOUT  SPECTACLES;  or,  Ran- 
dom Sketches  of  Various  Subjects,  Penned  from 
Different  Stand-points  in  the  Empire.  By  HENRY 
KUGGLES,  late  U.  S.  Consul  at  the  Island  of  Malta,  aud  at  Barce- 
lona, Spain.  $1.50. 

"  Mr.  RuggicR  writes  briskly  :  he  chats  and  gossips,  slashing  right  and 
left  with  stout  American  prejudices,  aud  has  made  withal  a  most  enter- 
taining book."  — Ifeio  -  York  Tribune. 

TRAVELS    AND    OBSERVATIONS  IN   THE  ORIENT, 

•with  a  Hasty  Flight  in  the  Countries  of  Europe. 

By  WALTER  HARRIMAN  (ex-Governor  of  New  Hampshire).  $1.50. 

"  The  author,  in  his  graphic  description  of  these  sacred  localities,  refers 

with  great  aptness  to  scenes  and  personages  which  history  has  made 

famous.    It  is  a  chatty  narrative  of  travel,  tinged  throughout  with  a  vary 

natural  and  pleasant  color  of  personality." —  Concord  Monitor. 

FORE  AND  AFT.    A  Story  of  Actual  Sea-Life.    By  ROBERT  B. 

DIXON,  M.I).    $1.25. 

Travels  in  Mexico,  with  vivid  descriptions  of  manners  and  customs, 
form  a  large  pan  of  this  striking  narrative  of  a  fourteeu-mouths'  voyage. 

VOYAGE  OF  THE  PAPER  CANOE.  A  Geographical  Jour- 
ney  of  Twenty-five  Hundred  Miles  from  Quebec  to  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico.  By  NATHANIEL  H.  BISHOP.  With  numerous  illustra- 
tions aud  maps  specially  prepared  for  this  work.  Crown  8vo. 
$1.50. 
"  Mr.  Bishop  did  a  very  bold  thing,  and  has  described  it  with  a  happy 

mixture  of  spirit,  keen  observation,  aud  bonhomie."  —  London  Graphic. 

FOUR  MONTHS  IN  A  SNEAK-BOX.      A  Boat- Voyage  of 

Twenty-six  Hundred  Miles  down  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  Rivers, 

and  along  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.     By  NATHANIEL  H.  BISHOP. 

With  numerous  maps  aud  illustrations.    $1.50. 

"  His  glowing  pen-pictures  of  '  shanty-boat '  life  on  the  great  rivers  are 

true  to  life.    His  descriptions  of  persons  and  places  are  graphic."  — 

Zion's  Herald. 

A  THOUSAND  MILES'  WALK  ACROSS  SOUTH 
AMERICA,  Over  the  Pampas  and  the  Andes.  By 
NATHANIEL  H.  BISHOP.  Crown  Svo.  New  Edition.  Illustrated. 
$1.50. 

"  Mr.  Bishop  made  this  journey  when  a  boy  of  sixteen,  has  never  for- 
gotten it,  and  tells  it  in  such  a  way  that  the  reader  will  always  remember 
it,  and  wish  there  had  been  more." 

CAMPS  IN  THE  CARIBBEES.     Being  the  Adventures  of  a 
Naturalist  Bird-Hunting  in  the  West-India  Islands.    By  FRED  A. 
OBER.    Crown  Svo.    With  maps  and  illustrations.    $2.50. 
During  two  years  he  visited  mountains,  forests,  aud  people  that  few, 

if  any,  tourists  had  ever  reached  before.     He  carried  his  camera  with 

him,  and  photographed  from  nature  the  scenes  by  which  the  book  ia 

illustrated."  —  Louisville  Courier-Journal. 


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LEE  &  SHEPARO,  Publishers,  Boston. 


LEE  AND  SHEPARD'S  BOOKS  OF  TRAVEL. 


LIFE    AT    PUGET    SOUND.    With  sketches  of  travel  in  Wash- 
iugtou  Territory,  British  Columbia,  Oregon,  and  California.    By 
CAROLINE  C.  LEIGHTON.    16mo.    Cloth.    $1.50. 
"  Your  chapters  ou  Puget  Sound  have  charmed  me.     Full  of  life,  deeply 

interesting,  and  with  just  that  class  ot  tacts,  and  suggestions  of  truth, 

thai  cannot  fail   to    help    the    Indian  and   the  Chinese."  —  WENDELL 

PHILLIPS. 

EUROPEAN  BREEZES.  By  MARGERY  DEANE.  Cloth.  Gilt 
top.  $1.50.  Being  chapters  of  travel  through  Germany,  Austria, 
Hungary,  and  Switzerland,  covering  places  not  usually  visited  by 
Americans  in  making  "  The  Grand  Tour  of  the  Continent,"  by  the 
accomplished  writer  of  "  Newport  Breezes." 
"  A  very  bright,  fresh,  and  amusing  account,  which  tells  us  about  a  host 

of  things  we  never  heard  of  before,  and  is  worth  two  ordinary  books  on 

Kuropean  travel."  —  Woman'*  Journal. 

AN  AMERICAN   GIRL  ABROA1).    By  Miss  ADELINE  TRAF- 
TON,  author  of  "  His  Inheritance,"  "  Katherine  Earle,"  etc.    ICmo. 
Illustrated.     $1.50. 
"  A  sparkling  account  of  a  European  trip  by  a  wide-awake,  intelligent, 

and  irrepressible  American  girl.     Pictured  with  a  freshness  and  vivacity 

that  is  delightful. " —  I'tica  Obxerrer. 

BEATEN  PATHS;  or,  A  Woman's  Vacation  in  Europe. 

By  ELLA  W.  THOMPSON.    16mo.    Cloth.    $1.50. 

A  lively  and  chatty  book  of  travel,  with  pen-pictures  humorous  and 
graphic,  that  are  decidedly  out  of  the  "  beaten  paths  "  of  description. 

A  SUMMER  IN  THE  AZORES,  with  a  Glimpse  of  Ma- 
deira. By  Miss  C.  ALICE  BAKER.  Little  Classic  style.  Cloth. 
Gilt  edges.  $1.25. 

"Miss  Baker  gives  usa  breezy,  entertaining  description  of  these  pic- 
turesque islands.  She  is  an  observing  traveller,  and  makes  a  graphic 
picture  of  the  quaint  people  and  customs."  —  Chicago  Advance. 

ENGLAND  FROM  A  BACK  WINDOW ;  With  Views 
of  Scotland  and  Ireland.  By  J.  M.  BAILEY,  the  '"Dan- 
bury  News'  Man."  12mo.  $1.50. 

"  The  peculiar  humor  of  this  writer  is  well  known.  The  British  Tslea 
have  never  before  been  looked  at  in  just  the  same  way,  —  at  least,  not  by 
any  one  who  has  notified  us  of  the  fact.  Mr.  Bailey's  travels  possess, 
accordingly,  a  value  of  their  own  for  the  reader,  no  matter  how  many 
previous  records  of  journeys  in  the  mother  country  he  may  have  read." 
—  Rochester  Erprexx. 

OVER  THE  OCEAN;  or,  Sights  and  Scenes  in  Foreign 
Lands.  By  CURTIS  GUILD,  editor  of  "The  Boston  Commer- 
cial Bulletin."  Crown  8vo.  Cloth,  $2.50. 

"The  utmost  that  any  European  tourist  can  hope  to  do  is  to  tell  the 
old  story  in  a  somewhat  fresh  way,  and  Mr.  Guild  has  succeeded  in 
every  part  of  his  book  in  doing  this."  —  Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

ABROAD  AGAIN;  or,  Fresh  Forays  in  Foreign  Fields. 
Uniform  with  "Over  the  Ocean."  By  the  same  author.  Crown 
8vo.  Cloth,  $2.50. 

"  He  has  given  us  a  life-picture.  Europe  is  done  in  a  style  that  must 
serve  as  an  invaluable  guide  to  those  who  go  '  over  the  ocean,'  as  well  aa 
an  interesting  companion."  —  Halifax  Citizen. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers,  and  sent  by  mail,  pontpaid,  on  receipt  of  price. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD.  Publishers,  Boston. 


TROPHIES   OF  TRAVEL. 


DRIFTING  BOUND  THE  WORLD ;  A  Boy's  Adven- 
tures by  Sea  and  Land.  By  CAPT.  CHARLES  W.  HALL, 
author  of  "  Adrift  iu  the  Ice-Fields,"  "The  Great  Bonanza,"  etc. 
With  numerous  full-page  and  letter-press  illustrations.  Royal  Svo. 
Handsome  cover.  $1.75.  Cloth.  Gilt.  $2.50. 
"  Out  of  the  beaten  track  "  in  its  course  of  travel,  record  of  adventures, 

and  descriptions  of  life  in  Greenland,  Labrador,  Ireland,  Scotland,  Eng. 

land,  France,  Holland,  Russia,  Asia,  Siberia,  and  Alaska.     Its  hero  is 

young,  bold,  and  adventurous;  and  the  book  is  in  every  way  interesting 

and  attractive. 

EDWARD  GREEY'S  JAPANESE  SERIES. 

YOUNG  AMERICANS  IN  JAPAN  ;  or,  The  Adventures 
of  the  Jewett  Family  and  their  Friend  Oto  Nambo. 
With  170  full-page  and  letter-press  illustrations.  Royal  Svo,  7  x9j 
inches.  Handsomely  illuminated  cover.  $1.75.  Cloth,  black  and 
gold,  $2.50. 

This  story,  though  essentially  a  work  of  fiction,  is  filled  with  interest- 
ing and  truthful  descriptions  of  the  curious  ways  of  living  of  the  good 
people  of  the  land  of  the  rising  sun. 

THE  WONDERFUL  CITY  OF  TOKIO ;  or,  The  Fur- 
ther Adventures  of  the  Jewett  Family  and  their 
Friend  Oto  Nambo.  With  169  illustrations.  Royal  Svo, 
7x9J  iuches.  With  cover  in  gold  and  colors,  designed  by  the 
author.  $1.75.  Cloth,  black  and  gold,  $2.50. 

"A  book  full  of  delightful  information.  The  author  has  the  happy 
gift  of  permitting  the  reader  to  view  things  as  he  saw  them.  The  illus- 
trations are  mostly  drawn  by  a  Japanese  artist,  and  are  very  unique.  "  — 
Chicago  Herald. 

THE    BEAR    WORSHIPPERS    OF    YEZO    AND     THE 
ISLAND  OF  KARAFUTO  ;  being  the  further  Ad- 
ventures of  the  Jewett  Family  and  their  Friend 
Oto   Nambo.     ISO  illustrations.     Boards.    $1.75.    Cloth,  $2.50. 
Graphic  pen  and  pencil  pictures  of  the  remarkable  bearded  people  who 

live  in  the  north  of  Japan.    The  illustrations  are  by  native  Japanese 

artists,  and  give  queer  pictures  of  a  queer  people,  who  have  been  seldom 

visited. 

HARRY  W.   FRENCH'S   BOOKS. 

OUR  BOYS  IN  INDIA.  The  wanderings  of  two  young  Americans 
in  Hindustan,  with  their  exciting  adventures  on  the  sacred  rivers 
and  wild  mountains.  With  145  illustrations.  Royal  Svo,  7  x  9J 
inches.  Bound  iu  emblematic  covers  of  Oriental  design,  $1.75. 
Cloth,  black  and  gold,  $2.50. 
While  it  has  all  the  exciting  interest  of  a  romance,  it  is  remarkably 

vivid  in  its  pictures  of  manners  and  customs  in  the  land  of  the  Hindu. 

The  illustrations  are  many  and  excellent. 

OUR  BOYS  IN  CHINA.  The  adventures  of  two  young  Ameri- 
cans, wrecked  in  the  China  Sea  on  their  return  from  India,  with 
their  strange  wanderings  through  the  Chinese  Empire.  1S8  illus- 
trations. Boards,  ornamental  covers  in  colors  and  gold.  $1.75. 
Cloth,  $2.50. 
This  gives  the  further  adventures  of  "  Our  Boys"  of  India  fame  in  the 

Imnd  of  Teas  and  Queues. 


Bold  by  all  booksellers,  and  tent  by  mail,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  040  098     6 


